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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061441">(No title yet.)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discessio/pseuds/Discessio'>Discessio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fanart, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:14:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discessio/pseuds/Discessio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi fic following their evolving friendship-relationship.</p><p>It will be uploaded slowly. Aiming for about 50k.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daryl Dixon/Jesus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul Rovia was not a stranger to trauma. They'd met on many occasions throughout his life, apocalypse aside, so when he saw trauma again, he recognised it easily.</p><p>Well, easily after some serious studying and mutual observation. His own concern etched into a frown on Maggie's face, or a grim shrug of Sasha's shoulders.</p><p>So it was that Daryl Dixon had suffered. Not unusual, given the state of the world, but the details of his particular pain were secret. Guarded behind grunts and abrasive stoicism.</p><p>Paul only knew what he saw and from what he saw he could only then make further presumptions. A map of events shaping in his head after what he'd seen, the dank empty cell that was rank with piss and vomit, the obscene rattling of Easy Street ricocheting around the metal cage.</p><p>It takes exceptional force to beat someone to death. He'd read, in a book somewhere, about murderers no less. To repeatedly attack the body, even with a weapon, was something so personal and emotionally driven. The physical effort itself would wear on the attacker, muscles would ache for days following, occasionally ligaments could even be torn, fingers broken even, if they had used their fists.</p><p>Daryl had used whatever he could grab. Desperation. Rage. Paul had met both of those too. It was an unholy reunion of all things past, born again on the face of a man already so defeated. It was shocking, always, each death always hit him at the core. This death was no different.</p><p>However, the revolting devotion with which Daryl lavished each blow did not bring pity from the Scout. No. Something darker inside him was called to the forefront.</p><p>Empathy? No, In a moment of pure madness, he was envious. To be able to exact revenge, perhaps not on the initial perpetrator, but still a release, what would that feel like.</p><p>Paul guessed it didn't feel like anything, given it had made no difference to Daryl's recovery. The Scout considered what course of action he would take, if presented with the same chance to deal with his own prior demons. Would it change the process of healing, giving him a headstart in closure? No. Would he do it anyway? Probably.</p><p>This new world was unpredictable. He couldn't even foretell his own reactions, such was the unstable nature of the human mind. No longer coddled in the safe barriers of certainty from before. Rules and consequences protected each defiant decision that reared it's head, security in life dependant on following a set course, laid out by society. Dictated to him as a child and reinforced throughout every possible outlet, life was, whilst inherently spontaneous, a set track.</p><p>All strings cut, accountability diminished, the standard expected of him now was more tangible.</p><p>More freedom to do literally whatever the fuck he wanted, if the situation called it. Which is why it seemed normal to not blink an eye at the Hunter, after watching him cave in the skull of a man right before him.</p><p>In the shadow of it all, it also meant not addressing the nightmare Daryl had lived through, the weeks he spent at the Sanctuary.</p><p>It has been bewildering at first, the former Alexandrian's continuing about the older man as though he'd simply been away on a long trip. Paul had hoped that Rick might encourage some form of debriefing, but a tight gripped embrace was the limit of it.</p><p>Gregory had been greatly reluctant to house Rick's<em> 'mongrel and those wild women</em>', so Paul had kindly offered his home. His trailer, home was never a thing, was a hope once , but all that wishful thinking disappeared the day the world had stopped.</p><p>The three women tucked gratefully into his spare room, settling themselves in sooner then anticipated. The Scout knew from his own experience, that being nomadic often leant it's hand in acclimatising yourself to new surroundings. They assimilated quickly, familiarising themselves with the other members of Hilltop and setting themselves chores and tasks to keep busy.</p><p>Daryl on the other hand, had only sought to bring meat back. Paul would wager that it was only a side effect of what he was really out there for. Despite not having his crossbow, the Hunter would disappear for hours and sometimes days, trying to deal with the war and everything he'd had to shelf all at once.</p><p>Uncanny was the knack that trauma had, destroying your very being, rupturing the foundations of who you are and who you're going to be, but then not giving you a chance to address any of it.</p><p>Yet nobody openly spoke. They ate well thanks to Daryl, roast beast, a whole menagerie of butchered animals spruced up at the whim of the Hilltop cooks. The older man traipsing in and out of the colony as he unconsciously tried to rebuild himself.</p><p>Paul saw. He saw everything. Deciding to follow the lead of those closest to Daryl.</p><p>The man grunted and sighed all night long on the sofa in the middle of the trailer, on the evenings he chose to stay. After turning down the offer of a bed, the Hunter had become more bristled around the younger man.</p><p>Not taking offence was already an instilled personality trait of Paul's. A lifetime of letting things roll off him like water on a duck's back, but he still sat up in the dark and listened, wondering if he could help.</p><p>Both men, insomnia riddled, lay staring at the ceiling from separate rooms. The door to Paul's room never closing fully made it feel less distant. Purposeful coughs on the Scout's part reminded the Hunter he wasn't alone. Eyes focusing on the damp circles above him, Paul would occasionally hear another cough or audible disturbance in return.</p><p>The secret intimacy of shared experience was all that the Scout could offer by way of solidarity and support. Respecting the silent rules of the newcomers by not engaging in the typical conversation that would take place in such a scenario.</p><p>The only encouragement for his participation was an extended glare should they happen to maintain the same space for any given period of time.</p><p>For a man so wordless, Daryl spoke volumes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Thought it was you."</p><p>A voice interrupted Daryl as he wandered through the bracken, close to Hilltop, checking the traps he'd left the morning before.</p><p>Jesus had startled him. Both because he hadn't heard him coming and by the very fact he hadn't heard him coming. It was unusual, but then the Scout was particularly adept at cloaking his movements.</p><p>He grunted and jerked his head at the younger man, continuing down the trail he'd set. Finding one, a possum was caught in the rope, Half-eaten. He chucked the carcass to the side, grumbling in disappointment. At least there were two rabbits on his belt.</p><p>A low hum came from the side of him, Jesus was bent by a vine, plucking plump, dark berries off its branches.</p><p>Crossing the space between them, he smacked the fruit from the Scout's gloves.</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>! Wha-?!"</p><p>"S'poisonous. Deadly." Daryl's brows flicked as he noted the twig that Jesus still held up.</p><p>"I <em>know</em>. Fox grapes." The younger man bent and picked them up off the ground, harrumphing as he noticed some were squashed. Picking more and putting them into a small tub from his bag.</p><p>"Oh." The Hunter frowned.</p><p>"Harvey's got bedsores," Jesus indicated the plant, holding a berry up between his thumb and forefinger, "It's good for making salve."</p><p>"Cherokees used it for-"</p><p>"-laxatives, yeah I know." Smiling at Daryl.</p><p>Slightly impressed, the older man didn't show it. Huffing to himself, noting a potential other use for the peppy, Hilltop prick.</p><p>"You wanna know how I know?" As if hearing his thoughts, the Scout had piped up.</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>"Ouch. <em>Well</em>, I actually found this book on common plants and their deadly doppelgangers-" He rambled on as Daryl sought out the next trap. Not paying attention, the older man let him continue, finding it didn't irritate him enough to comment.</p><p>The Scout blabbered on as he followed.</p><p>"-and so I am working on an apothecary type collection." Jesus glanced at the sky, hands on his hips, bumping into Daryl as the Hunter bent to unhook the trap.</p><p>Shooting him a dark look, the older man tied the skinny fox to the rest of his catch.</p><p>"So how do <em>you</em> know about plants? Do you have an interest in native American culture?" They'd already spoken more in this brief encounter then they had since meeting, the Scout didn't want to push it, but he couldn't help but be intrigued by Daryl.</p><p>"Learn more from 'em then some '<em>expert</em>', 's'for sure."</p><p>"Do you recommend a good guide or-"</p><p>"Ya' got nothin' better ta' do?" The Hunter turned and faced Jesus. Face tightened into an almost-there-snarl. "Quit followin' me. Goddamn jabberin'." He mumbled as he stomped through the brush, twigs snapping underfoot.</p><p>The younger man hesitated, before calling, "I'll uh, see you back at the trailer I guess?" But Daryl continued on.</p><p>"Right." Jesus nodded to himself before setting back off home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha and Enid were laughing over a magazine quiz, Maggie chuckling too every now and then. The teenager having dug up a whole stack and had been pouring over them intently to find the fun games they could play, in a bid to cheer up the two women.</p><p>Paul showered to the sounds of giggles and couldn't help but smile himself. A fan of his own privacy and the solitude of being a lone-wolf, he found that the atmosphere brought by the Alexandrian's was infectious. Even Daryl, who was a silent, emotional hurricane was good company.</p><p>Dressed, Jesus headed to the others, catching Maggie's eye as she warily scanned him.</p><p>Trust had been established and he'd already proved himself, but she was still jumpy and he was sure that there was a plan to stab him in his sleep should they ever be suspicious of him.</p><p>"Hey Jesus," Enid grinned. "Wanna do a quiz?"</p><p>"<em>Uh</em>," The Scout pulled a homemade roll from the breadbag on the kitchen counter. Heading to the small table and perching on the arm of the couch. Taking a bite and speaking with his mouthful, "Sure, what you got?"</p><p>Just as she started talking, Daryl came through the front. Nodding politely at the group before slumping down into the sofa. Arms spread wide over the top and head lolled back.</p><p>"So, Jesus... Coffee or hot chocolate?" Enid asked, pen hovering over a notepad.</p><p>"Is this gonna tell me which member of destiny's child-"</p><p>"-just, answer the question." She glared.</p><p>Smirking, he fiddled idly with the bread, crumbs falling onto his leg. "Coffee.</p><p>"Dogs or cats?"</p><p>"Neither."</p><p>"<em>Ooh</em>." Enid remarked, scribbling something down.</p><p>"You got something against animals?" Sasha's face quirked in mild interest.</p><p>"No, just not a house-pet kinda guy."</p><p>Daryl scoffed.</p><p>"<em>What</em>?" The Scout directed, slightly affronted. Brows tugged into a frown as he looked at the Hunter.</p><p>"Jus' not surprised."</p><p>Paul felt somewhat annoyed at the older man's judgement. Having clearly already built a mental picture of who he was and apparently disapproving.</p><p>"Let me guess, cat person? Likes to hunt, going solo, distances themselves...?"</p><p>"Nah," Daryl studied the younger man, "Dogs."</p><p>"Oh. I can see it actually, would suit your whole," He gestured, waving his hand at the Hunter, "<em>Thing</em>."</p><p>"Thing?"</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>, stop railroading my quiz!" Enid demanded, tapping her pen on the table.</p><p>The two men turned to her, before Paul let her carry on.</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, when the women were asleep, Jesus crept out of his room. It had been fairly quiet in the living space, the bedroom door couldn't shut, so he could hear if Daryl was moving about.</p><p>Padding slowly, he made a small noise of acknowledgement as he noticed the Hunter sat upright at the table.</p><p>"Sorry, just getting a refill." Raising his empty glass.</p><p>"Your place." Not looking up, Daryl shelled nuts using his knife, peering over a large book.</p><p>"I guess. Don't really have <em>stuff</em> anymore. What're you reading?" Jesus stepped toward the table. Lifting his chin to peer at the large volume flat against the surface.</p><p>Flaky casings covered the pages, the text not visible in the lowlight and as the Older man leant his arms against the book, he saw less.</p><p>"S'non'ya' s'what it is." Daryl warned. Not snapping, but the message was clear enough. He didn't normally dig out the Therapy book, but since Carol had discreetly handed him a new one, he'd been sneaking little moments when he was sure he wouldn't be crept up on.</p><p>"<em>Alright</em>," Paul held his hands up defensively. "I just like books that's all."</p><p>Daryl just glowered as he watched the younger man return to the darkness of his bedroom.</p><p>Only returning to his page once a low snore sounded.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A war was coming. That much had been discussed by Rick Grimes. Since rescuing the Hunter, the Hilltop had begun to prepare. This meant storing up as much longlife food as they could, should they be potentially starved out by the Saviours.</p><p>Long hours spent in the allotments tired the Alexandrian's as they turned soil, planted seeds and harvested existing crops. Excess being grown for canning. A lucky find had seen to it so that they could keep the tomatoes, beans and even potatoes for as long as a year if necessary. Pickling was another great resource they were trialling and so cucumbers where being grown by the barrow-full.</p><p>Daryl appreciated the distraction, if he was left unfocused too long, the ringing of that awful song could still be heard. The words seared into his brain.</p><p>But raking through the compost to pull out hearty green vegetables was at the moment, enough.</p><p>He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sweat and fine dust from the crumbly mud was smeared across his forehead. It was hot under all of his hair and he could see why Jesus had tied his up.</p><p>He grunted to himself, it was good to see the smarmy, little hippy getting stuck in. He would never deny, the Scout wasn't work-shy. Putting in more hours then most of the others, even getting into increasingly dangerous situations just to fulfill a scavenge request.</p><p>The Hunter watched quietly as the younger man sifted in the dirt with gloved fingers, leather swapped for tough cloth and rubber. The exposed skin of his forearms and face tanning slowly in the summer sun. The katydids and crickets whirred in the grass around them as the heat blurred the periphery.</p><p>Just as Jesus turned, Daryl switched his gaze to bore hard into the ground before him. A gentle brush against his bare arm jolted him as he saw the Scout's hand retreating.</p><p>"You had a bug." He answered the question before it was asked.</p><p>The scowl that had started to crawl across the older man's face faltered. It was, a reasonable enough excuse, but still uneccessary in his opinion.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Slowly, as the week went on, Daryl would listen, somewhat vehemently, as Jesus would introduce conversation.</p><p>Forming a pattern of predictability, he would start with benign questions usually regarding the scenario they were in or some element relevant to the Hilltop. Gauging Daryl's response before leading it further, imploring the older man to expand on his short answers.</p><p>When, if the Hunter had been so obliging, an opportunity presented itself, Jesus would latch onto a word or comment and go off-tangent. His knowledge was widespread, able to bring up several different subject points and regale Daryl with facts and stories about all kinds of things.</p><p>It was pleasant, the older man supposed. If he were one of the others perhaps he'd feel slightly awestruck. However sometimes he mistook the Scout as showing off, insinuating perhaps that he was inferior. Stupid even. </p><p>Prick. Daryl knew he was smart. Smarter then it could ever of been predicted of him. It was one of the nuisances of being around Jesus. The Hunter enjoyed learning, it was important to spread knowledge, only letting the younger man know he'd been responsible for it, was just...no, he wouldn't.</p><p>This world had no place for self-consciousness, but being around the Scout had that effect on Daryl. He figured he'd find a tent and move out the trailer for a while, hopefully sort something out with Rick and get back to Alexandria where he belonged, but he never bothered.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jesus had been out of Hilltop for the whole day, much to Daryl's relief. He spent much of his time just carving bolts, no crossbow to use them with, but it was a soothing habit. Pulling on his focus, skill and patience, he found the crafting to be meditative. Enjoying each finished arrow as he worked in peace.</p><p>Carving, nocking and fletching till sundown, Daryl felt his eyes growing tired and decided to head back.</p><p>He could smell the Colony cook's chilli from the porch steps, his belly growling as he stepped into the trailer.</p><p>Jesus's leather duster was haphazardly flung over one of the rickety chairs at the table, a bowl of chilli sat still emanating a tempting scent, a swirl of steam danced temptingly above the food. The back end of the building was dark and quiet as it's other inhabitants slept.</p><p>Four bowls were stacked wonkily nearby, the Hunter grunted as he realised this was for him. Placing his ammo bundle to one side, he collapsed into one of the chairs, sighing as his muscles relaxed.</p><p>A garish piece of fabric sat behind the bowl. Daryl picked it up, it unfolded as he held it into view of the lamplight, a dark square with bright, painted dogs of varying species. It was tacky, like something his more senior neighbours would of picked up in an old thrift store, a small note slipped from a crease.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Why have one dog when you can have twelve?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>P</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Daryl snorted. Pocketing the cloth into his vest.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It had been a few days since Paul had left the little gift for Daryl, seeing it as a joke and hoping it was taken so.</p><p>He led awake, pale, dull light filtered in from the poorly hung pillowcase that was pinned either side of the window. The blinds had lost their function before the trailer had become home to him.</p><p>It was early, far too early. Unable to sleep properly as a warm arm draped heavily across his stomach.</p><p>Seeing Alex was a mistake at the best of times. Indulging his own needs; seeking the validation of sexual gratification, the self-destructive allure of shame for his own greed, the minor relief for the alarming state of loneliness he felt; never caring about the other man's. However, last night he'd been particularly exhausted and now he was paying the price.</p><p>Making sure to kick the nurse out of bed, or swiftly hopping out of his, Paul had managed to avoid sleeping beside the Nurse for some time.</p><p>Denying the other man mundane intimacy wherever possible, tying to dissuade the inevitable discourse about their supposed relationship. To Paul, a friendship with mutually assured sexual benefits, though, it was becoming clearer, to Alex, this was romantic and far more intense then the Scout was comfortable to even think about.</p><p>Cutting it off was the obvious answer. He had, successfully even, on numerous occasions. But then Alex would walk in and just take his clothes off, seducing him with soft touches, there was only so much he could ignore. It was easier this way, sometimes, staring at the ceiling as the other man rocked on top of him, eyes closed.</p><p>Jesus would flip him over and pound into him hard and fast, getting it over with and out the way. It was not unpleasant, but nothing to want to keep Alex around for.</p><p>Sighing heavily, Paul considered what he'd say when the Nurse would wake up. Knowing all too well that the stubborn and desperate pleading would be a headache as be tried to kick him out. <em>Fuck</em>. He rolled his head back and rested against the headboard. He'd have to march him out in front of the others. Daryl at the very least.</p><p>No one had been awake when he'd snuck in. Originally telling him it wasn't going to happen, but bumping into Alex enough throughout the previous day to get him to give in. He'd needed it more then he'd realised in the end.</p><p>Maybe he could get him out now, he thought, shaking the cool skin of the other man's shoulder.</p><p>"Alex," He whispered. Pushing a little harder.</p><p>"<em>Mmph</em>?" The muffled sound came from next to his side, the Nurse's face buried between Paul and a pillow.</p><p>"You gotta go." He spoke quietly.</p><p>"What?" Alex sat up, arms stretching and hair askew. "What's happening?"</p><p>"Nothing, you just need to go, you must of crashed here last night." Feeling impatient, the Scout fiddled with the cover on the duvet, pinching and twisting it.</p><p>"Yeah, I thought you said...that I could?"</p><p>"I was tired, you know why we can't." Paul made excuses, not facing up to the truth of the matter.</p><p>"I don't see why you care so much about what the others think." Alex grumpily climbed out of bed, seeking out his clothes. Finding his boxers and wobbly pulling them up his legs.</p><p>"I don't, I just-" Paul started lifting his hands but letting them flop back onto the duvet, before getting up and yanking his pants up.</p><p>"No it's fine, Jesus. You just take what you want, no fucks given about me." The Nurse's voice cracked as he bit back.</p><p>Trousers on but undone, the Scout rolled his eyes, then looked cynically at the other man. He wasn't overly invested in Alex's feelings, as much as he berated himself for that, he still was a sucker for the emotional pitch. The same trap that had kept the less than entertaining affair going.</p><p>"<em>Alex</em>, c'mon, you know that's not true." Not a complete lie, Paul mused, he was in many ways, closer to Alex then the other colonists.</p><p>"No, whatever. I'll get out of your hair." The Nurse crashed about the room, picking up a book from the dresser. "This is mine, I'm taking it."</p><p>"Sure." The Scout waved his hand, this wasn't the first time the two had argued and he knew within the next couple of weeks they'd end up back where they started. Before he would of tried harder to put the fire out but he'd learned not to bother.</p><p>A timid knock on the door sounded as Maggie popped her head round. A slight look of suprise danced across her features as she noted the guest in Paul's room and the shirtlessness of it's occupier.</p><p>"Every'thang' alright?" She cooed.</p><p>"Yeah-"</p><p>"-I was just leaving." Minding the pregnant woman, Alex barged out the room, stomping through the lounge area and ignoring the incredulous expression of the Hunter as he slammed the front door behind him.</p><p>Maggie wandered back to the table beside Daryl, her ginger tea giving a faint aroma in the quiet room. Paul had followed, peering out the window as he watched the Nurse stomp towards the medical trailer, the sun beginning to peak up over the colony walls.</p><p>Daryl put the pieces together and glared hard at his coffee. Normally getting a good read on people, he hadn't expected to find the younger man of that persuasion. He also wondered how many times Jesus had smuggled someone in at night, past the sofa where he slept.</p><p>"<em>Sorry</em>, didn't mean to wake you guys."</p><p>Maggie took a sip from her mug, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She was pale and had dark circles round under her tired eyes. "I been up most o' tha' night. Woke Daryl up, this baby did <em>not</em> want yesterday's dinner."</p><p>Paul grimaced, then remembered he needed to grab a shirt, "Can I get you anything?"</p><p>"No, jus' gotta get through it. This helps though." She raised her tea. "You can come sit, if you ain't busy, <em>he's</em> been talking my ear off all morning."</p><p>She nudged the Hunter playfully.</p><p>Daryl frowned, momentarily confused before he picked up on her sarcasm, huffing and giving her a glimpse of a smile. It felt good to bond with her, after Negan, time was that he felt their relationship would never recover.</p><p>Paul nodded eagerly, popping back into his bedroom and came back fully clothed. His hair pulled back half-heartedly into a knot on his head, strands loose around the edges as he poured the rest of the hot water from the pot into a mug. Slicing up a lemon and settling in between the two Alexandrians.</p><p>"Sasha and Enid still sleeping?"</p><p>Maggie hummed in the affirmative. Hands wrapped around the warmth of her cup, despite the oncoming arrival of summer, the morning still held a chill. "So, what's with...?"</p><p>"<em>Alex</em>? Oh, just, well it's nothing. Just, <em>y'know</em>."</p><p>Daryl refrained from looking up, from what he could see of the Scout from under his lashes, the younger man was facing him, the Hunter shifted uncomfortably. He felt glued to his seat, not sure of the right words to leave without making it seem like he took offense to the conversation topic.</p><p>"I get it. Been going on long?"</p><p>"Not really, well kind of. I met him in the beginning, the very beginning. Him and his partner saved my life. Things went wrong, he died, then it was just the two of us, till we found Hilltop." Paul turned the cup in circles as he spoke, the hot water rippling slightly. "Sort of stuck to each other when we got here, then stuff happened-"</p><p>"-as it does-" Maggie added, knowingly.</p><p>"-yeah, but then, it never really stopped. It should, it's not good for either of us, but it's just, uh-"</p><p>"-habit?" She offered.</p><p>Paul smiled at her, "Yeah."</p><p>Maggie sighed, then looked at Daryl, "People do all sorts'a' things 'cause life's harder now, but life's short. Don't put up with anythin' honey. Just be honest. Like Daryl."</p><p>"Huh?" The older man lifted his head and glanced between the Scout and his friend.</p><p>"Be like you. Always sayin' how it is. You don't put up with shit. It's good, good example to live by." She rested a soft hand on his arm.</p><p>Jesus snorted, "Maybe I will."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Daryl couldn't help it, but he found himself staring at the stranger who'd left the trailer that morning. Alex, Paul had said. He was tall, had the kind of face you saw on all the cheesy 90's sitcoms. The kind Merle would of jumped if they'd seen him outside a bar.</p><p>The Hunter bet that life had been easy for someone like Alex. The entitled way he seemed to carry himself, but he assumed the braggadocio was all false and a whiny little, spoilt child sat beneath the skin. Maybe that was what Paul liked, some pretty boy he could use, guess there weren't a lot that looked like Alex around.</p><p>The Nurse seemed to have good rapport with the other colonists. Always taking a background role, Daryl wondered for a moment if Jesus took pleasure in having someone to act as a subordinate.</p><p>The sexual dynamics of such a situation crossed his mind and he blanched visibly. Thankfully unwitnessed, his skin flushed as he tried to shake away the mental image that broke through the barrier he kept up to filter out similar, dangerous thoughts.</p><p>Daryl found himself still thinking about Alex and Jesus well into the next week. The Nurse had been trouble, repeatedly bringing over long lists of medical supplies and being rude about how quickly they were needed.</p><p>Trying to be polite, the Scout would nod and be agreeable, his face held a continuously strained expression and his demeanor was glum. Maggie made an effort to try and cheer him up, the two becoming closer as they got to know each other.</p><p>Sasha and Enid too, collectively, the residents of Paul's trailer had become a tight-knit group.</p><p>Sasha had said as much to Daryl as they ransacked a department store that had been on the list for raids. It was unwise for the Hunter to venture out,  with Negan and his cronies still loose, but Daryl had gone over every square metre of the Hilltop and was crawling the walls.</p><p>So far the take was good. Being in the country meant a gun section, mostly cleared, but a few boxes of ammo and cleaning and spare parts remained. Sasha scanned aisle to aisle, rambling about specific items for Enid and Maggie.</p><p>Daryl followed suit, peering up and down rows of shelves, so many things that were pointless now, that he would never have wasted money on before. Stepping over a fallen rack, he ventured into the book department. The deterioration that came with age and the lack of cleaning aside, the whole area looked untouched.</p><p>His fingers brushed the spines of books that would never be read. Romance novels, true crime, heavy anthologies teeming with knowledge. A quick thought popped into his head, grunting with vague enthusiasm, Daryl went to find the maps, b ooks about Virginia and it's land. Bagging the up-to-date geographic editions and scanning for ones with local flora and fauna. He was well-satisfied with the consortium of information he'd gathered, making a mental note to share what he found with the other groups. He turned to find Sasha, but not before something caught his eye.</p><p>
  <strong>One with Nature, Native Guide to Virginia by a collection of Indigenous Author's.</strong>
</p><p>He picked it up, flicking through the pages and reading some excerpts, it seemed legitimate.</p><p>He hesitated as he went to take it, thinking it odd to just gift the man he barely knew, but then he glanced down at the tacky bandana tucked beside his red rag. Dude liked books, liked plants, nothing weird about it. His way of saying thanks for looking out for Maggie and the girls, giving up his space.</p><p>On the drive back Daryl ran over in his head how he'd give the book to Jesus. Sasha was humming indistinctly and he spent the entire ride psyching himself up to it. He wasn't out of tune with his mind, but chose to ignore the subconscious voice that questioned why it was such a big deal in the first place.</p><p>The Hunter thought he was ready, but changed his mind as they stepped into the trailer, everyone sat round the table, Enid perched on an old gunsafe, cards spread out mid-game.</p><p>There was eager chatting and they all turned to smile at Daryl and Sasha, even Alex, back again. The Hunter twitched his lips, frowning under his bangs, a glance at the Scout told him that hopefully the Malibu-Ken-Lookalike would hopefully be gone soon.</p><p>Daryl sulked to himself on the couch as he watched the others play a poor game of poker. Jesus seemed reasonably good, coming head-to-head with Sasha before winning the majority of the rounds.</p><p>As Maggie and the others got sleepy, the Scout began to make subtle hints about going to bed, Daryl was no social wizard, but even he could get the basic message across. Alex however was either dumb or ignorant, a wager the Hunter would stake on it being both, persisting on not moving from his place at the table.</p><p>"Ain't they give you a home?" Daryl grunted, fussing about with the tin kettle in the kitchenette, resisting the urge to spark up a fag off the gas camping ring.</p><p>"You talking to me?" The Nurse blinked up innocently.</p><p>Jesus's eyes widened a fraction as he averted his stare, brows tweaking upwards before returning to his neutral expression.</p><p>"'E lives 'ere...you don't, who else am I talkin' ta'?" Daryl didn't bite, but he kept an abrasive tone, his back toward the others, the small pot began to rattle as the water boiled.</p><p>Alex's mouth hung open as he glanced at Jesus, the Scout creased the corner of a card in front of him, staring at the glossy rectangle as the layers at the edge frayed. "Uh, <em>right</em>. Well, I guess I'm going to head out. Just me tonight...in the trailer. Dr Carson is with Brenda at the house...sepsis... <em>yeah</em>."</p><p>The Nurse lingered, hovering by his chair as he shrugged his jacket on.</p><p>"Night, Darius, uh-"</p><p>"<em>Daryl</em>." Jesus rolled his lips tightly together to hold back the awkward smile behind them.</p><p>"Oh, sorry, Daryl. Uh, night Jesus." Alex bent as though to kiss the side of the Scout's head but missed as Jesus stood abruptly.</p><p>"Night," Flashing him a tight, brief smile before heading into the back bedroom just as the kettle whistled.</p><p>The Nurse looked lost for a moment, meeting the Hunter's eye, the hard glare making him divert his gaze as he slowly left. The door clicked resolutely behind him.</p><p>"He's gone."</p><p>The younger man appeared from the shadow of the open doorway of his room. "Thought he'd never go."</p><p>"I don' get it." Daryl went to pick up the kettle, hissing as he brushed the scalding metal, grabbing a tea towel before pouring the water into two mugs.</p><p>Jesus looked quizzically at him as he leant against the counter by the older man, "Don't get what?" Reaching down into the mini fridge that ran off the old, knackered generator and picking out a lemon half, handing it to Daryl.</p><p>Taking it he peered at the Scout, "You have tha' nuts ta' take on me n' Rick, steal our truck, <em>drown it</em>-"</p><p>"-<em>Accidentally</em>" Jesus added defensively, "Not that bit," He indicated the slightly dried up slice Daryl had cut off.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Rolling his eyes, the Hunter cut another and dropped it into the second mug, "-Did all'a' that an' you can't tell '<em>pony boy'</em> to fuck off?</p><p>The older man handed Jesus the lemon water before making up a coffee, then followed him to the couch.</p><p>"It's not as simple as just giving the hardy Daryl stare." He snorted, blowing over the steam and taking a tentative sip, "Thanks."</p><p>"It is, y'aint hard enough. Too soft."</p><p>"Bold assumption, you don't know what I'm capable of." The Scout lilted, a foreboding hint shading his words.</p><p>"Hm." Daryl scoffed. Then noticed his bag beside the couch. "Here, gotcha this."</p><p>He reached inside and pulled the book out, placing it in the gap between them.</p><p>Brows furrowed in curiousity, Jesus picked it up and examined the cover. "<em>Huh</em>."</p><p>"'Cause o' tha' other week."  The older man blurted.</p><p>"I remember. Thank you  Daryl, been needing something new to occupy my sleepless nights with. This is will do nicely"</p><p>Sure he'd hear the pages turning for the rest of the evening, the Hunter nodded, smiling. "N'problem."</p><p>They chatted absently about the book before Paul yawned his way into submission, placing his mug back in the kitchen and thanking Daryl again.</p><p>The older man settled down onto the sofa, a copy of <strong>Modernising the Motorcycle</strong> in his hands ready to be lazily leafed through, the sound of paper shifting in the back of the trailer. Sighing in a long exhale, that had gone well.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Is it possible you could be wrong?"</p><p>"<em>Wrong</em>?! How dare you, I allow you certain liberties in this place and you!-"</p><p>"-Sorry. You misunderstand me. I just think we need to be objective about this."</p><p>"It's <em>my</em> home, you hooligans have damn well taken over. I will not let those outsiders in these walls."</p><p>Daryl shifted on his feet outside Gregory's office. He'd come to find Jesus and had decided to hang back, the row seeping through the old door.</p><p>"<em>Fine</em>. Fine. Just, y'know we have to adapt, to this world. We've all lost stuff, I know it's your house, but that doesn't mean the same thing it once did." The Scout sounded exasperated, then opened the door and nearly crashed into Daryl.</p><p>"Easy." The Hunter grumbled.</p><p>"You looking for me?" Paul began to walk, Daryl following him back down the corridor, Gregory sneering at the two before slamming the door shut behind them.</p><p>"Yeah, wonderin' if ya' got any jobs. Outside." The older man peered momentarily through his bangs at the Scout's face.</p><p>Lips twitching, Jesus looked strained, "<em>Look</em>," he stopped Daryl with a hand on his arm, "We're taking a risk just letting you go hunting. If they find you and kill you while you're out on your own? That's awful, but if they find you out their with our guys, that's it. Game over for the Hilltop. That includes Maggie, the baby and the others."</p><p>"I spoke ta' Maggie." Daryl grunted, chin low as they skipped down the stairs, turning the corner to the kitchen.</p><p>Two women he hadn't met yet prepped vegetables whilst a man in an apron fussed about the stove. Nodding at Jesus and looking warily at Daryl.</p><p>"And I'm sure she said it was fine, but maybe her head isn't in the right place?" The younger man reached to grab an apple before a pale hand smacked it away. He looked affronted before one of the women winked, passing him a wrapped parcel with flapjack.</p><p>He pointed at her cheekily before striding toward the service entrance, the older man still at his heels.</p><p>"C'mon man. Could be useful." Frustrated, Daryl didn't want to beg the him, but he really couldn't stand feeling penned in.</p><p>Chewing on his treat, Paul stopped, the trees nearby rustled pleasantly in the wind, his hair lifting gently with the breeze as he sighed with a smile.</p><p>"Alright." He covered his mouth, as he finished his morsel, "But I'm not sending you out with anyone else. You can come with me. Tonight, there's something I've been working on."</p><p>Brows jumping up and eyes brightening, Daryl felt he could of clapped his hands and smiled, though he didn't. "'Kay."</p><p>"After dinner come and meet me back at the trailer, make sure you're ready."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After finishing his meal, Daryl had eagerly hopped off the bench, leaving Maggie, Sasha and Enid in their bubble gabbering about the baby.</p><p>Remind himself to slow his heavy steps as he got closer to the trailer, the solar light on the porch framing the silhouette of Jesus.</p><p>"Rovia."</p><p>Paul's head snapped up and he shot Daryl a questioning stare, head tilting as he regarded the older man.</p><p>"I forget sometimes, you and Rick know my name."</p><p>"Ain't no one else?" The Hunter frowned.</p><p>"No, Alex maybe, I'm just Jesus now." He shrugged, checking his knives before patting Daryl on the back to indicate for him to follow.</p><p>"Y'aint, s' jus' a nickname. M'not callin' ya' Jesus." Daryl scoffed, shifting his rifle strap on his shoulder, as they headed to the gate in the dark.</p><p>"Personal reasons or...?" The Scout asked sincerely, whistling sharply to get Kal to let them out.</p><p>"Nah, jus' dumb is all."</p><p>Jesus laughed, then grinned at Daryl who didnt turn his head to acknowledge him. "Well alright then. '<em>Rovia</em>' it is, Mr...?"</p><p>"Dixon. But'chou' ain't callin' me that."</p><p>"Okay, <em>Daryl</em>. Get in the car." They headed to an old sedan, Jesus cranking the door to get into the front.</p><p>"Could drive, 'f'ya' want?"</p><p>"Don't push it." Paul snorted, turning the ignition.</p><p>They drove toward a small town, the place seemed reasonably quiet, the odd walker ambling about. Nevertheless, the younger man had the car crawl along the cracked tarmac at a slow pace, head bent low to scan the buildings out the windscreen.</p><p>"So what's tha' job?"</p><p>"You'll see in a minute." Satisfied, he pulled up by a large, plain, brick building.</p><p>Inside was a mess, leading the way, Jesus nudged open a side door, glass crunching underfoot from the small window pane that had shattered long ago.</p><p>Daryl suddenly wrapped an arm around the Scout's chest, palm flat against his sternum as he held the younger man.</p><p>"Wha-?" Paul whispered in alarm.</p><p>Ignoring him, the Hunter clicked his torch on and shone it at the broken shards. Nudging past the younger man and crouching to examine the pieces.</p><p>"We ain't tha' only ones come through here." He explained, seeing Jesus's unimpressed expression glaring down at him.</p><p>"An astute observation Daryl. I have been in and out this place the last week." His tone sarcastic, the Scout stepped over the older man.</p><p>Daryl straightened up, huffing to himself. It wasn't his intention to show off his instinctive skills, but people didn't usually brush him off so callously these days.</p><p>They crept over fallen office chairs, the large open space littered with desks, dust layered computers and file folders upon every surface. Papers strewn about the carpet, the stench of mouseshit and piss sat in the air. Heading up an echoing stairwell. </p><p>"S'all crap."</p><p>"Not so I've heard, well, read. This was a security firm, it was in the local newsletter, between the article about the deadly cat population and Mr Birkenau's massive marrow." Paul said nonchalantly as though it were a perfectly reasonable answer.</p><p>"Don' even know tha' fuck ta' begin wi' that." Daryl smirked, flicking the torchbeam over the employee of the month photos.</p><p>The Scout manoeuvred his way through a makeshift barricade of furniture, phone wires laced across the gaps meant it took some climbing. Daryl groaned as he dropped down onto the other side, passing a room full of dead walkers.</p><p>"Like I said, I've been here before." The younger man remarked without looking. "See they were celebrating their first year of business, I always take local newsletters, you never know what comes up. And I <em>read</em>," His voice picking up in pitch to accentuate interest, "That they nearly didn't make it because of some dispute that was happening with the NRA."</p><p>Daryl kept close as Paul led them to a heavy, metal door with coded, digital alarms by the lock. The screens were blank, the batteries run flat long ago after the power had been shut down. The surface was dented in several places, an emergency hatchet lay by the hinge, hundreds of scratches and even one or two scorch marks marred the door.</p><p>The Scout touched the metal with his gloved fingers, smirking before brushing past Daryl into a fax room. "Their issue wasn't with the <em>NRA</em>, but the people of the town <em>who</em>, after a recent mass shooting, yikes, who can blame them? Didn't fancy having an office full of...drumroll...guns!"</p><p>"Huh." The Hunter nodded, watching as Paul stacked a few plastic tubs and balanced carefully, lifting one of the ceiling tiles and shifting it out of sight.</p><p>"So, there was a big argument, amendment rights, <em>blahblahblah</em>, that sort of thing." He shone his torch up before turning, then directing it toward Daryl. "So they agreed, that as long as they were kept super safe, impenetrable etcetera, then they could set up shop."</p><p>The older man just listened.</p><p>"Of course people came here when things got all fucked up, but they must not of had the codes or whatever, I guess no one else bothered checking once they saw all the walkers behind the barricade there, so it's reasonable to believe, that they're still here!" He finished his story, proudly, having felt it thoroughly entertaining in his own head.</p><p>"Could'a' wasted less time an' jus' said there's guns." Daryl scoffed.</p><p>"That would of been incredibly dull Daryl." Paul lamented. "These buildings have been around since the eighties and all have the old air vents in the ceilings here, so it's my theory that they should go over the gun vault too."</p><p>"I ain't fittin' up there. No room fer' me n' a bunch'a' weapons."</p><p>Jesus's torch scanned the Hunter's body, "I know. That's why I'm going up."</p><p>"So whatta' m'I doin'?" Arms spread out in a wide gesture.</p><p>"You've just got to stand there and look pretty." Paul said before putting the torch in his mouth and hauling himself up.</p><p>Daryl stuttered, but didn't reply. Rick made comments like that all the time, but that hadn't sat quite so comfortably with him, he decided it was simply because the two were still not long strangers.</p><p>He nosed about the shelves, peering at printing cartridges and boxes of blank paper. Some of the boxes had been nibbled and Daryl wondered if that had happened before the world had gone to shit.</p><p>It was quiet for some time before a loud clunking and dragging sound came from overhead, getting closer with each loud scrape. Then Paul's gloating face appeared at the lip of the hole, blinking harshly at the older man's torchlight.</p><p>Realising he was blinding him, Daryl grunted and set the light on one of the shelves, "Guessin' you were right?"</p><p>"Well," The Scout sighed, heaving something forward, a long black bag tipping down into the fax room, "This oughta make up for the claustrophobic nightmare."</p><p>The older man caught the heavy duffel, setting it down on the floor carefully.</p><p>"There's more, some ammo and some handguns."</p><p>"S'all good."</p><p>Jesus disappeared again. Daryl unzipped the bag and scoffed, nodding with approval as he noted the AR-15's amongst the other rifles.</p><p>When he returned, the younger man very carefully lowered another bag, again heavy, then he sent down another, not so heavy but just as dangerous. The rectangular shapes of bullet boxes poking through the fabric.</p><p>Daryl put the other guns and ammo with the first duffel, just outside the small room, then shone his torch back up at the empty space above him.</p><p>"Rovia?"</p><p>No reply. Daryl rolled his bottom lip under his teeth, just about to do something he would regret, the Scout sounded from the ceiling.</p><p>"Sorry, just forgot my hat-" The voice stopped abruptly as the ceiling creaked in a drawn out groan. The other tiles cracked, Daryl swore just before the weak material gave way and Paul crashed half onto him.</p><p>Trying to catch himself on his box-ladder, but failing to break the fall in time, Jesus knocked Daryl onto the floor. Paul's face stopping an inch from his.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Led amongst dusty pieces of plastic tile and flimsy framing brackets, the Hunter moaned, the heavy pressure of the younger man crushing his lungs awkwardly making him choke.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em> Daryl?" The Scout stumbled onto his feet, then reached down to clasp his hand round Daryl's, helping the older man up.</p><p>"M'alright. You?"</p><p>"Good. Well, that couldn't of gone any better." Paul brushed himself off gleefully.</p><p>"You're a smug lil' prick ain't'cha'?" The Hunter scoffed.</p><p>"Just an optimist Daryl, you should try it sometime."</p><p>"Keep yer' hippy crap ta' yerself." Daryl mumbled, not unpleasantly.</p><p>They headed back through the corridors, then made sure to be careful as they moved the guns over the barricade. Paul insisted on carrying both the gun duffels, his breaths hard as he dragged himself and the added weight over the fallen furniture and then paused in the stairwell they'd come up through.</p><p>"<em>Lord Jesus</em>, jus' give us that one will ya'?!" Daryl snapped, stepping up to the Scout and shoving his hand under the strap, pressing against the younger man's shoulder and removing it. Swinging it gently over his own, rifle on the other.</p><p>Paul rolled his eyes, then followed him out.</p><p>They'd been there for sometime, the moon was barely a crescent in the sea of black, casting a bare glow over the desolate ruins. A handful of walkers took interest in the two men as they loaded up the car, but neither stopped to notice as they finished up and hopped in.</p><p>Setting off out the little town, the younger man chuckled to himself.</p><p>"Y'know, it didn't suck having you along with me." He brazenly informed the Hunter.</p><p>Daryl shook his head, leaning his elbow against the edge of the window, picking at the rough skin on his lips. "Y'aint so bad yerself. When yer' not doin' a shitty impression o' Tom Cruise."</p><p>Driving onto the long country roads back to Hilltop, Jesus shiftered the gearstick and grinned at the older man, "Is that a compliment? I <em>am</em> lucky this evening."</p><p>"Whatever ya' need ta' tell yerself." The Hunter snorted.</p><p>The sky was washing into a paler blue as they pulled up to the colony. Eduardo and Jake let them in, they left the guns in the car, deciding to deal with it in the morning.</p><p>The smell of dew in the grass graced Daryl's nostrils as he inhaled deeply, side-by-side with Paul as he yawned, both walking to the younger man's home.</p><p>"The others will be getting up soon." The Scout tried to say as his yawn trailed off.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em>, yeah." The Hunter realised, the sofa he claimed lay centre in the living space.</p><p>"Hey, you can crash in my room. Save the girls disturbing you." Jesus smiled, patting him on the shoulder before quietly opening the main door.</p><p>They both slunk in, mindful that the hour was early and since the dead had risen, people tended to be lighter sleepers.</p><p>Something lurched in Daryl's gut as he creeped behind Paul, heading into his room. He fumbled with the handle before a whisper said, "It doesn't shut properly, leave it."</p><p>He couldn't see much, but Daryl could make out a bed, one bedside table on one side and a short, broken bookcase the other. There was a dresser along the opposite wall with a few escaping sleeves resting over the middle draw. It was a small, square space, the gap between the bed and the door reasonable enough for the Hunter to call home for the night.</p><p>The older man didn't argue when Paul yanked the duvet off the bed and folded it on the floor, making the space between the foot of the bed and the dresser more appealing, then even tossing down a pillow. Chucking off his boots, gloves and coat, hat still on.</p><p>"Thanks." Daryl grunted, standing unsure for a moment as the Scout crashed onto his mattress, then rolled onto his front, pillow cradled in his arms.</p><p>Curling up on the floor, he hooked an arm under the pillow, slipping under the fold in the blanket. Tugging at the corner to cover himself more.</p><p>"Night Daryl."</p><p>Squinching his eyes tightly, he beckoned sleep, deepening his breaths and trying ignore the realisation that the pleasant smell of the bedding was actually the younger man's scent. The jasmine fragrance of shampoo mixed with something inherently natural.</p><p>Daryl listened to the long, steady exhales atop the bed, pausing a good moment before letting himself feel more secure.</p><p>Nuzzling his face into the fabric and finally letting his weary muscles relax. Too tired to let his subconscious dwell on his actions, Daryl found himself asleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Waking up, Daryl stretched. Not usually having the room to do so, his foot hitting the bottom drawer of the dresser with a thunk.</p><p>A staggered snore reminded him where he was, bringing him fully to wakefulness. He propped himself up with an arm behind his head against the pillow, squinting with sleepy eyes at the small room and it's contents.</p><p>There were elements of the Scout, he thought as he noted a gimmicky baseball cap with '<strong>jesus saves</strong>' on it, a small cartoon of the Messiah holding a ball in a mitt.</p><p>Daryl sat up, twisting as his back and neck cracked satisfyingly. He could smell the faint aroma of coffee and wondered if the girls had left any in the pot. The Hunter then perked up at the idea of rolling a cigarette to take with his cup'o'joe and quietly got to his feet.</p><p>Having left his tobacco on the dresser the night before. Not much left in the bag, he made a mental note to send word to Carol at the Kingdom to see how their plants were coming on. With the daylight, dimmed by a DIY window covering, Daryl could see everything he hadn't noticed before.</p><p>Paul kept a hairbrush on the dresser and several ties, along the spare side of bed were piles of books. Books everywhere, the older man now noticed, in the bookcase, on the bookcase, the bedside table. Even mismatched shelves, sporadically drilled to the walls, were laden with literature.</p><p>Paul Rovia was a messy guy, he thought. The room was clean, but he'd clearly just chucked his clean laundry at random into the drawers, small plastic stacking baskets lined the edge of one wall with various odds and ends in them. Daryl nosed at them, lists tacked to the wall above with the never-ending requests of Hilltop residents.</p><p>"<em>Sucks ta' be you.</em>" The Hunter muttered under his breath.</p><p>Slipping his boots on, resting a foot against the end of the bedframe to tie his laces, he looked up over his knee at the Scout.</p><p>In the same position he'd been when he'd settled down, Paul snored lightly into his pillow, hat dislodged and hair pooling either side of his head.</p><p>Daryl stared for longer then he'd expected to, frowning and heading out for the coffee.</p><p>The trailer was empty and he was grateful to find enough in the pot for a mug, it was still lukewarm and Daryl considered that a good sign for the rest of the day. Heading outside, he rolled a smoke on the little picnic table at the bottom of the porch steps.</p><p>It had become his space over the last few weeks, an escape from the lack of privacy in the cramped trailer. A place to ponder the upcoming war with Negan and to go over events that had taken place at the Sanctuary.</p><p>He tried not to linger on those thoughts, throwing himself at whatever menial, meagre task he could, but today felt different, the weather was agreeable and he'd had decent sleep despite the long night. So he let the cell and all the other crap filter in for a while. Each exhale of smoke taking with it another part of his suffering.</p><p>Like the majority of his life, it would still remain under the skin, the rattling pipes of PTSD calling his attention at some point down the line, most likely in some other awful situation.</p><p>But this morning, Daryl glanced up to see the sun still travelling, <em>late</em> morning, he could accept it.</p><p>Savouring the last few puffs and coaxing himself into not rolling another, the older man stepped back inside the trailer. The room was still quiet so the Hunter busied himself with boiling water on the gas, camping-ring set up on the counter in the little kitchenette.</p><p>Putting more stale, instant coffee granules into his mug, then putting another mug on the counter in case Paul would want some when he woke up.</p><p>Dissolving the coffee with a splash of water from the jug on the side, Daryl stirred, staring at the other cup. Grunting to himself, he reached into the little fridge and put the rest of a lemon half beside it.</p><p>Nodding as the pot whistled sharply, he cursed, lifting it off the ring, holding it away as though it would help to sully the loud noise.</p><p>He poured the water into his own cup, faltering before pouring some into the second. Then cutting a slice of the fruit before putting it back in the fridge. Dropping it onto the Scout's drink. Sipping his bitter, black caffeine, Daryl stared hard as steam looped and curled above the other cup on the counter.</p><p>After a few more swallows, the Hunter decided to at least pop the mug in the younger man's room.</p><p>Stepping back into the dim space, after weaving through the books, he gently placed it on the broken bookcase. Jesus had shifted toward the edge, his head close to were Daryl was.</p><p>As the older man moved to retreat backwards, he accidentally bumped one of the piled stacks, it toppled, the hardbacks thumping louder as they fell.</p><p>Blinking awake suddenly, Paul lifted his head off the pillow. The wrinkled case had left crease marks on his cheek, his hair was lightly frizzed up one side, "<em>Who? Wha-?</em>"</p><p>The Scout slurred, voice throaty from snoring.</p><p>"Jus' thought ya'd wanna' drink." Daryl tried not to stare, unaccustomed to seeing the seemingly flawless man so disheveled and confused.</p><p>"Oh, uh, <em>thanks</em>." Paul yawned and sat on his knees, stretching up and bending his arms behind his head, his shirt dancing up above his waistband.</p><p>The Hunter felt himself tense up, a fragment of memory snarled at him but he shook it off.</p><p>"Should let you sleep in here more often." Jesus smirked before taking the drink into his lap.</p><p>Daryl blanched, his face contorting slightly as his brows pinched together.</p><p>"Whilst my couch is always spare, I don't mind sharing, I'm working on letting Gregory set you all up in the house, but in the meantime you could always crash here? Get you a mattress, the girls can get around more without disturbing you."</p><p>Paul smiled with a friendly expression as he scooted to one side, jerking his head to let the Hunter sit.</p><p>"What about you an' blondie?" The older man buried his shy face in his mug.</p><p>"That's done. You don't need to worry about that." The Scout huffed to himself.</p><p>"I <em>weren't</em>." Daryl fired back, the hint of defensiveness in his tone obvious.</p><p>"No I know, I was just saying, like...<em>nevermind</em>."  Jesus gave him a quizzical side-eye glance.</p><p>"S'when ya' think the ol' git's gonna give over?" Redirecting the conversation, the older man took another large gulp to hide his expression, the liquid hot in his throat.</p><p>Paul rolled his eyes, lifting a hand before letting it drop onto his thigh, "Well I thought he'd of done it first thing. Especially with Maggie being so sick...but he's, well you've met him. I think I can crack him if I just annoy him enough."</p><p>"Not long then?" Daryl snorted.</p><p>"Y'know, just when we turn a corner, we end up right back with you bullying me." The younger man scoffed.</p><p>"Jus' too easy s'why."</p><p>"I would hit you, but I've just woke up and I'll end up scalding myself," The Scout lifted his drink.</p><p>"'Scuses."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"-Then I had to watch for five whole, horrifying minutes as Eugene sucked face with-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-Stop!-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Hey</em>! Wha?!-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tara was interrupted again as Paul pressed a finger to her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group quietened as distant voices could be heard below them in the old building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Shit</em>!" She whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stared intensely at the Scout. His heart paced wildly as he considered the possibility that the Saviours were a floor below them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit." Jesus mirrored, he gnawed on his lip for a moment before glancing up at Daryl then turned to Tara and Aaron. "You two go that way, if it's them, tell them you're working for Negan. You came hear alone okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron nodded, holding his gun anxiously. "What about Daryl?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll deal with it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of the two looked entirely convinced before they shifted quickly across the factory floor, heading to the other side where the external stairs were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should go," Daryl mumbled, "Jus' in case. They'd kill ya'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"With a face like mine?" Paul winked at him, "Doubt it. I'm a valuable commodity Mr Dixon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crept between huge machines, like dynamic still-life paintings, heavy pistons poised mid-air as everything had been shut off so suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chattering sounded closer as they found their way into another section, a series of offices, all in long rows with frosted glass on the windows and doors. The building looked frozen in time, the decor a mix of the original 1950's wood and leather, with the modern touch of technology interlinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In here." Paul hurried as they darted into one of the offices. The younger man panicked as there was no real place to hide. Their silhouettes visible from the other side of the glass and the desk didn't have a back panel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strangers were so close that Daryl could pick up their words, he tried to think quickly before a hand grabbed him and shoved him into the tight space between the back of the door and the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul hastily pulled the little blind down over the blurry pane before holding his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-some high end shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The fuck you mean '<em>high end</em>'?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like, look," A man stepped into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man went tense, pressed against Daryl as he heard the floor creak when the person entered the small office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the Hunter could do was wait, feeling the stiffness of Jesus against his front, he could smell the light tint of sweat from under the Scouts layers. A knife in his hands and a gun in Paul's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Some fine-ass looking chair!" There was a squeak as the hinge of the leather swivel seat rotated unhappily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, I'm <em>not</em> helping you carry some busted-ass chair back to the car."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second man stepped in, rooting around the shelves and peering at the certifications on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul could see the edge of his face and part of his leg. Heart thundering in his chest, he mentally prepared himself to drop the two at a moment's notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, when I come back for it, you ain't getting a turn!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever man, let's go find the others. Shit all back here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left, still talking loudly as they sauntered about the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul remained where he was, keeping a keen ear out for anything untoward. When he was satisfied they were safe, he poked a head round the door. Then turned with a grin to Daryl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Close shave huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Pfft</em>. Somm'ats' wrong wi' ya'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus made room to let the older man out, "What do you mean?" His brows pinched into an incredulous expression as he tilted his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wann'ed ta' be found. Could 'ear yer' heart beatin' like a drum." Daryl regarded the Scout from under his brow, his eyes telling Paul that it was perhaps a little concerning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Maybe</em>, just a little." The younger man nudged the Hunter's shoulder as they carefully made their way back to the corridor, scanning with weapons low. "Violence is inherently bad, although I do find protecting people...somewhat <em>thrilling</em>?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded unsure of his own description, "Is that bad?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S' worse things...Hol' up, <em>I'd</em> be protectin' <em>you</em>!" Daryl turned on him, scowling as the Scout smiled wider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure you would." He gave the Hunter a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man stood stunned for a moment before catching up, "Wait, so ya' were <em>sheildin</em>' me back there?!" Stopping Paul with a grip on his bicep, manipulating them face-to-face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" Jesus shook his head as his smile faltered into a look of concern and then went back to playful. "You worried about your reputation as the tough guy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl scoffed, then noticed the younger man looking somewhat sincere underneath the teasing, "Fuck off, jus' don't need savin'." He retorted, opening a door to the deep stairwell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul wiggled his head bemusedly, "Sorry, <em>who</em> busted you out the Sanctuary?" Figuring the conversation was light enough to pepper it in as a friendly joke. His voice bouncing around the space as they headed down the flights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was already outta' there, if anythin', I rescued <em>you</em>!" Daryl shoulder barged the Scout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ooh. I think I'v</span>
  <span>e found a touchy subject, not to worry Daryl, I won't tell people you follow me around for protection." Paul snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Protection</em>?" The Hunter scoffed. "Yer' so full'a' shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Defensive insults only confirm my theory."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bootsteps and words echoed around the tall space, a couple of floors left to go, Jesus peered over the railing at the ground floor. "Well, this was a big waste of time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Those guys weren't Saviours though, least not ones I've seen before. You recognise their voices?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah, guy said 'bout takin' tha' chair back, mus' have some place, place worth takin' somethin' nice back ta'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul dragged his gloved fingers along the railing poles, listening as the resulting sound reverberated in his ears. "True, another group maybe?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got to the bottom of the last stairs, two guns clicked and both men spun instinctively, pulling their own weapons out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl reaching for his pistol as it was quickest, Paul doing the same. Neither brandishing their weapon of choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Told you I heard somebody!" A tall lanky man with greasy, thin hair sneered at his companion, a much broader man with pocked skin and a gut. A mess of wirey hair scattered along his jawline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hand over your weapons and maybe we won't shoot ya'. The rounder one demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl glared as Jesus held up his other hand defensively, "No one needs to shoot anyone. We're just all in the same place at the same time, is that such a damnable offense?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man turned to the taller one, who stepped forward slightly, "Yeah, we've met your sort. Say a whole lotta</span>
  <span> words and stuff, then fill us with bullets when our backs are turned. Not today sunshine. Want your guns, can keep the knives, consider it a courtesy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lanky man nodded, pleased with his demands and turned seeking approval of the other man who grinned back. "Yeah, a courtesy. Could just pop a cap in your ass and take it all, but we ain't heartless dickbags."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right, we just want the guns, n' then we're gone, vamoose, goodbye."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl watched as Jesus lowered his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-Sayonara." The tall one continued</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Arriva-dushy." The broader man eyed them wickedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It ain't 'dushy' it's der-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller man turned to correct him, leaving an opening for Paul to take a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hand braced on the railing, he hopped over the edge, planting a kick into the lanky-haired guy's face, toppling him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then grabbing the other man's gun with both hands and pointing it down at the floor as a shot went off, ricocheting back up and grazing the Scout's cheek. Angrily, he elbowed upwards, hard bone meeting the scruffy bearded chin. Managing to yank the gun out of the attacker's grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl had leant over the railing to grab at the taller man as he regained his posture, using a tight fistful of hair, he pulled man's face into the metal bars. Pushing back and heaving backwards to do it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the lanky-haired man wobbled upright, gun loose in his grip, he was suddenly knocked out cold as Jesus leapt up, foot hurtling off the concrete base of the stairs, delivering another swift kick to his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl jumped down the rest of the steps, but not before Paul had the second dropped weapon, holstering his own and training both new guns on the broader man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Now</em>," He jerked his head, hair loose from the knot flicking back over his shoulder, blowing over his top lip at a stray strand that covered his mouth. "I'm gonna take these," The Scout indicated the guns, "<em>But</em>, I'm going to leave you your knives."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a testing stare at the defenseless stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S'a' fuckin' courtesy, pricks." Daryl snorted. Spitting onto the ground by the unconscious man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now we're going to..<em>.vamoose</em>? Right?" Jesus stepped around him, weapons still drawn as he headed to the fire door by the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Sayonara</em>." The Hunter leered, stepping forward threateningly as he passed the broad, round man. Looking him up and down as he flinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding the door for Daryl, Paul gave a curt nod to the guy before letting the door swing shut. Calling out "Arrivederci!" just before it slammed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two man then both broke into a run, following the edge of the building to where the car was parked. Aaron and Tara's was gone, but two new ones were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Watch me." Jesus called, ducking by the first vehicle, pulling his Bowie knife out and sawing the serrated edge into the tire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reflexively, Daryl dropped beside him, arm over the hood, gun pointing at the front of the factory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man made quick work and moved onto the other. Then they hopped into their car just as a small group rounded the same corner they'd come from. Two more strangers joining the others they'd fought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bullet singed off the metal as Daryl hurriedly started the engine, reversing hard and fast in an arc. Another shot broke through the windshield, making the Scout yell and duck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter, pushed the car forward again, quickly holding his pistol out the side window and firing rapidly. His hand rolling the wheel as they reversed again, jolting to a stop with a screech, then burning the rubber of the tires as he slammed hard on the accelerator, all but drifting out the lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gripping tightly to the dash and the edge of his seat, Paul struggled as he was thrown about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They soared out of the industrial pocket, heading up into a backroad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms still stretched out to steady himself, hair completely loose and fallen forward over his face, Jesus cocked his head toward Daryl. "So he's fast <em>and</em> furious?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man huffed, "Yer' welcome."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh <em>really</em>?" The Scout chuckled in disbelief, "After all I did in there? We were what, about five minutes away from being outnumbered?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Way you drive, would'n'a' mattered, y'ad still be fiddlin' wi' tha' seat n' before you know it, <em>bam</em>!" The Hunter slammed on the dashboard for emphasis, glancing at Paul with a brief half-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's a correct position for drivi-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-<em>unbelievable</em>-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-No, hang on, I have to get the seat <em>right</em> cos'..." Jesus trailed off, grimacing as he sensed the grin spreading across the older man's face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cos' what Rovia?" Daryl teased, peeking to the side at the Scout as he humourously shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because <em>some</em> cars," He started slowly in a matter-of-fact tone, "Some cars have a wider gap between the seat and the pedals."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl punched Jesus jokingly in the arm, "Bullshit, say it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes I can't reach." The younger man breathed out quickly. "I'm not short Dixon, I will not say it. Just not as freakishly long as the rest of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter snorted. "S' what I thought."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul lingered on a comeback before he saw Aaron and Tara's car up ahead in the middle of the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout took his gun out as Daryl pulled their vehicle up slowly, then relaxed as their friends appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron lifted a hand cheerily and Tara flashed them the Star-Trek Spock sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You both alright?" Aaron stepped toward them, smiling at Daryl, "We heard a shot, just as we got in the parking lot, thought we'd wait and see if you guys came past."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorted it." The Hunter muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Jesus, your face?" The Alexandrian cooed, reaching a hand up to Paul's cheek where the bullet had bounced backward during the disarming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man flinched despite the gesture being aimed at the Scout. The other two didn't notice and Daryl blinked unsurely as Aaron thumbed near the cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Finger's dirty." The  Hunter said, or so he'd meant to, the comment whipping out harsher then intended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend studied him, analysing the gloomy expression under the bangs, "Ah, he's right. Always so observant. This is why Eric likes you more then me!" Aaron hummed to himself with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus looked between the two, eyes lighting up, "Who's Eric?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My long suffering husband and better half."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tara sauntered over, "I dunno chief, that potluck dinner thing we did?...yeah, I think it's debatable over <em>who's</em> long suffering. Though he's definitely the better half." Her brows jumped up gleefully as she looked smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You only say that because he feeds you." Aaron cocked his head knowingly. "Speaking of which, Daryl, you have neglected us a visit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S'not safe. Once all'a' this bullshit wi' them pricks s'done."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then you'll come? Have spaghetti Saturday?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul crossed his arms, then twisted to leer at Daryl, mouthing '<em>spaghetti Saturdays</em>'?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure man." Ignoring him, the Hunter cleared his throat and nodded at Aaron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In the meantime though, <em>you</em> could always come round?" The Alexandrian turned onto Jesus. "Eric is itching to know all the Hilltop gossip."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh don't," Tara rolled her eyes, "I said remember that cocky dude with the extensions from the peasant village?-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-didnt he say, what, the loreal guy?-" Aaron chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-I said he's banging that dude that looks like he walked straight off o' neighbours and I haven't heard him shut up about meeting you since." She looked at Jesus with wide eyes, her hands in her hoodie pockets and she swayed on her feet. "He even chanted, '<em>one of us</em>.'" Nodding her head looking slightly worried for the Scout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>No</em>, that was you..." Aaron laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, uh, I'm flattered. But for the record, my hair is <em>real</em> and I am not with Alex anymore. And peasant village?" Paul chuckled and frowned at Tara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because you being <em>single</em> will make you less interesting to Eric." She giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl's head snapped up as he misunderstood her meaning, quizzing Aaron with a stare before the other man just smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout then held a hand up, "Single, yeah, available, no."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter felt relieved by his reply, glad to know his friend's relationship was under no threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, as much as it would be fun to just stay and chat, we really ought to head back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm." Daryl nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They parted ways, all agreeing that it had been good to see each other but it was at the end of it all, a waste of fuel and nearly a bit of trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stood by the Hilltop car, just as Tara drove down the road and round a turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shotgun er'...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can drive if you want." The younger man smiled sarcastically across from the passenger door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl nodded and they both got in, the metal frame bobbing as their weight shifted the car. "S'pose' it's fer' the best. Seat's all wrong fer' little legs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Alright</em>, c'mon Bo Duke, get us home."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at the Hilltop they got out the car. Both bantering back and forth for the remainder of the ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, anything good- oh, you're hurt?" Alex was walking past them and he'd turned to check in. Now stopping and reaching as Aaron had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stopped with Jesus, unsure as to why he had, maybe to also note to the Nurse to wash his hands first, but instead he just watched as the blond touched carefully around the cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Want me to clean it? Got some butterfly stitches somewhere?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm alright, just a nick. Thank you, though. For offering." The Scout smiled softly back at Alex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl shifted, feeling the need to leave, but didn't. Paul clapped a hand kindly over Alex's shoulder and then passed him, heading to the trailer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Nurse studied Daryl for a moment, then made a slightly disgruntled face, slapping on a smile then continuing the direction he'd been walking to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in the trailer it was quiet, Enid was making a tea, greeting them happily before disappearing into the bedroom with one of Carl's comics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had grabbed a little lockbox from under the sink and was digging amongst various medical effects. Locating a brown, glass bottle with a dropper lid and come cotton balls. He started to dab at the cut, hissing under his breath as the iodine stung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl sat not beside him, but closer then if he were parallel, fumbling through the supplies nosily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There, that should do it." Jesus gathered the bloody cotton on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Got all fluff on it." The Hunter muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wound looked less menacing once it was clean, but now had loose cotton fibres stuck in the reddened skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man frowned, tentatively feeling for the fluff and plucking some off. "Gone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout tried again, "Now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, jus', here," Daryl indicated on his own cheek, to no avail as Paul missed again. "Hang on, lemme' wash up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man stood and headed over to the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your worry for my health is touching Dixon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, gettin' rent free housin' wi' all inclusive ain't somm'at ta' sniff at. This is jus' insurance." The Hunter dragged his chair closer, leaning in to carefully pull the strands away from the cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oblivious, as Jesus's eyes softened, focusing on the older man's lips. "Insurance huh? No hidden fees?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl flicked his gaze onto the Scout's, before feeling heat prickle up his back and run up to his cheeks. "S'pose it's'a', even, considerin' earlier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Oh</em>?" Paul's knee brushed against the other man's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yer' Jackie Chan shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Yeah</em>?" The younger man felt himself leaning closer to the Hunter, not really listening to the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Done. Ya' might still make tha' calendar this year." Daryl stood, unshouldering his vest, setting it on the back of a chair then grabbing his mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sat dazed, realising what he'd almost stupidly done. The older man blurred in his periphery, fussing about the kitchenette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even tuning in as the Hunter began to mutter about tea leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole day returned to Paul in flashes, then other little snippets of the brief time he'd spent with the stranger from Alexandria who was now an affixed member of his home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pondering over the unspoken gruff man, avoiding conversation wherever possible and yet here he was, rambling on mostly to himself, quite comfortably in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given that the two were only just moving past acquaintanceship, Jesus had to consider that this could very well be normal behaviour for Daryl and that he couldn't go off what he'd seen after the Sanctuary, because, well who wouldn't so withdrawn?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout resolved the issue in his mind by assuring himself that Daryl Dixon was friendly, sure, but as he'd jokingly said, Paul was the gatekeeper for the protection of Maggie, Sasha and Enid and the unborn baby. Of course Daryl would appease him, it simply didn't mean anything. Plus, he mused to himself, <em>we're okay, friends maybe, at a push, but I don't know him. It wouldn't make sense, it would be irrational to have any sort of feelings. It's all probably just because I've not had a chance to have a wan-</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were cut off by a steaming mug placed under his nose. "Outta' lemon. Jus' regular joe. Was some figs, but a' figured y'aint havin' 'em in water."</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Shit</em>. "No...it would be, an unusual match."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl didn't notice the hesitant expression on the younger man's face, "di'nt know how ya' take it, so jus' made it how I have it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked between the mug and the Hunter. "Thanks. Um, I don't feel so great, I'm gonna go and read for a bit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving the older man confused, alone at the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, Daryl finally crept into Paul's room. Having since the last week moved in, the Scout placing down a mattress and proper blankets and giving him pillows of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man led on his back, a snore catching in his throat before settling down. The duvet just past his knees, hand resting over his crotch under his sweatpants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter scoffed, pulling at the corner of the blanket to chuck it over the younger man, but not seeing it was tucked under one of his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul stirred and groggily opened his eyes, blinking in the</span>
  <span> dark at the vague figure of Daryl. Then pulled his hand from under his trouser waistband and muttered, "Night Daryl." Before rolling over, yanking the duvet over his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter sighed, settling himself in his little spot. Perching on the end of the bed to take his boots off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul bunched his pillow in the crook of his elbow and used it to prop his head up. Pale moonlight drifted in from the curtainless window of the living space, creeping through the gap in the door and helping his eyes make the image before him clearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl shifted as he unlaced his boots. Then standing unbuckled his belt, shimmying the trousers down, his boxers tugging slightly at the back, revealing a glimpse of ass cheek. Perfectly encapsulated by the soft, silver glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout swallowed thickly. Unable to turn away and grant the man the privacy he deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter absently scratched at the exposed flesh before running a finger under the elastic and hooking the boxers back into place. Turning slight, Daryl yawned as he unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man could tell he was side on,  a view of the man from just below the waist, he couldn't properly see what he was looking at, but the idea was enough to make him giddy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorting through his belongings, the Hunter grabbed a t-shirt and slipped it on. Running a hand through his shaggy hair, then turned to look at the top the dresser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul squinted as hard as he could, almost certain that the older man was considering either his hairbrush, hair ties or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Daryl just sniffed and cleared his throat, somewhat muffled, before crouching down out of view and clambering into his own blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resisting the urge to finish what he'd started but fallen asleep doing, the Scout turned onto his front and tried to not dwindle on the little peek of Daryl's ass, nor the more daunting prospect that his interest went beyond that.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Daryl is misreading his feelings and Paul is discovering his!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was with silent fanfare, the Hilltop greeted Rick, Michonne and Tara. The colony was still dubious of it's current guests and so were less forthcoming with the arrival of Negan's new favourite adversary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Subtlety and discretion meant that this marked the second time Daryl had seen his friend since escaping the sanctuary. The bittersweet embrace that was only shadowed by a farewell and the uncertain future of the rest of his people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They held each other again, large hands grasping at the other's clothes, heads pressed hard together. Over a month of worry on both ends, resolved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rick had arrived to discuss the plan for Negan, Gregory however had positioned himself in obnoxious ignorance, behind the safety of his office door, alone with his liquor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Occupying the drawing room of Barrington house, the Alexandrian's and the residents of Jesus's trailer all stood in conversation. Jesus himself leant against the wall in the corridor, idly waiting in case his opinion was of use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we need ta' spread our defenses." Rick eyed the others as he bent over a large table, palms flat on the lacquered surface, fingers splayed. "Ain't enough, jus' us an' Hilltop."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hilltop isn't battle ready neither." Maggie added, arms folded under her chest, her pale cheeks slightly gaunt. She shifted as she perched on the arm of a sofa, nibbling at her lip as the leader sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can only do our best with what we got."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's the point in giving our best if we just end up dead?" Sasha slapped her hands against her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you suggest then?" Rick retorted, stern but not unkind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha nodded to herself and stood up from where she was sat beside Maggie, "Negan's got a guard around him most of the time right? But not at the Sanctuary, we've learnt as much from Carl and Daryl. When he's with one of his '<em>wives</em>', he's alo-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-Not happening." Rick interrupted, bristling at the insinuation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl, who'd been lurking in the periphery, mind delving into obscene memories of Negan and his introduction into their lives, also stiffened at the prospect of one of theirs getting up-close-and-personal with the homicidal sociopath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it's time Jesus tells us more about the others, the others he said is out there." Rick settles a thumb under his belt buckle, hip cocked slightly to the side as he glanced at the closed door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon his brother's nod, Daryl stirred and stepped into the hall, catching the younger man's attention right away, "Rovia, yer' up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus pushed himself off the wall, tugging self consciously at his sleeve to unroll it back down to his wrists. The latch clicked behind him as he greeted the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's time we went on a road trip."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Rick's decision that Jesus was upfront beside him as he drove, Daryl in the backseat, with Tara who had been given whispered instruction to keep a keen hand over her gun, lest the Hilltop Scout have an alternate agenda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl felt uneasy at the blatent distrust, but if the younger man had an inkling of his feelings, he didn't show it. Voicing directions at Rick and only glancing occasionally up at the rearview mirror. The Hunter hadn't noticed, he was considering the developing friendship between himself and the Scout, the behaviour of his family had reminded him that Paul Rovia was still a stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had also learnt, by fatal trial and error, that a good deed does not a good man make. Jesus had helped to rescue him, but perhaps he'd grown too comfortable and wasn't seeing what Rick saw, but on the reverse side of things, Rick could be obtusely distrustful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he needed to remain ambivalent, keep a casual distance until they had a more stable idea of what next steps they were taking.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Kingdom was large, even from the exterior, a couple of armoured guards on horseback stopped them short of the entrance, demanding they step from the vehicle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had it not been so many years since his days as an officer, Rick would of rolled his eyes at the irony. Graciously following orders as they all kept their hands raised away from their weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl's jaw twitched as Jesus confidently stepped forward and introduced himself, then asked to meet with 'King Ezekiel.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others looked between themselves, the older man caught the Scout's eye and was met with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The propensity of the idea of someone so self-deluded they brandish the title of 'king', astonished the Hunter. The apocalypse had brought out the worst in surviving egomaniacs, but this took the cake. Putting together a picture of the man who would be king, as they follow a new and jollier guard up to an old theatre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ensconced in darkness for a brief second before being drawn toward the stage, a large cage visible upon the planks. Daryl's stomach lurched as his idea of King Ezekiel took a turn from gluttonous, balding man with red cheeks, aglow with the typical blood-vessel red of hypertension, to thin, skeletal and wicked. Face crooked and contorted into an effigy of evil intent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not however, expecting the cage to be occupied. A shape uncurled into a slender menagerie of autumnal tones, dressed starkly in contrasting black, ink brush strokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I see you forgot to warn them about Shiva." A low voice boomed up and outward across the rows of collapsed seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus looked gingerly at the stunned faces beside him. "Oh yes, uh, there's also the King's tiger..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short growl sounded as the large animal rubbed her cheek against the bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now now Shiva, let us meet our new guests before making hasty judgements." The booming voice addressed the beast, then from out of the shadows at the stage side, a tall and gently featured man stepped into view. Long grey locs fell about his shoulders as he reached without hesitation and stroked the tiger through a gap in the cage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ezekiel, <em>King</em></span>
  <span> Ezekiel," Rick begun.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The discussions had been long, the man had been through a war already and was not keen to venture away from the security he had adapted to for his people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been helpful when they discovered Morgan, who vouched for Rick and the others and ultimately swayed him into considering the plan to take Negan down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ezekiel then toured them around the Kingdom, drawing Daryl's attention to the archery training as Rick proposed he stay here. The King was more then happy to let Daryl seek asylum within his walls and even offered a crossbow to make his stay more worthwhile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus faltered when the question was asked. It made sense, sure. He was safer here then Hilltop, no Gregory being unstable and untrustworthy, his own space and then also no risk for the colonists should he be discovered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gut wrenched as he wantonly decided he would rather have Daryl at Hilltop, no matter the outcome. It felt uncharacteristically off to put his own selfish desires that, most likely will come to no fruition, ahead of the safety of people he'd lived among for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus peered at Daryl, he also seemed troubled by the notion of staying, but agreed it was the better idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After more conversation with the King and a wider tour of their agricultural efforts, the group got ready to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl chewed at his thumb as he watched Jesus barter with a Kingdomer, pocketing some requested nick-nack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y'all be glad ta' have som'more room back." He mumbled, eyeing the younger man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus snorted, "What, and miss out on roadkill farts, thunder snoring and giant shower puddles? I'm devastated." He wiggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It <em>ain't</em> road- shower puddles?" Daryl opened the door of Rick's car to let the Scout place his bag under the seat. Rick, Tara and Michonne still chatted with Ezekiel and Morgan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't act like you're unaware. I've never seen someone make such a mess by taking a shower!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I put a towel down first!-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-which needs wringing out several times after! Do you use the curtain?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl rested against the frame of the vehicle, face scrunched incredulously, "Course a' use tha' curtain!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you could of fooled me." The Scout sniggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you two bickering about?" Tara sauntered over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Daryl's lodging etiquette."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try having to spoon him when you've been walking for weeks with no shower or shelter, all that shit goes out the window after that!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl scoffed, scuffing his boot in the dirt, fingers twitching around his pocket near the pack of Marlborough's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's get this show back on the road, you got anything back at the colony worth keeping?" Tara looked up at the Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll bring whatever's in the trailer with me when I come back here next week." Jesus patted the older man's forearm before sliding into the passenger seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks...</span>
  <span>Keep an eye out fer'-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-Maggie? Sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stood back after another tight hug between Rick and Michonne, hand shielding the afternoon sun from his eyes as he watched the car shrink into the distance, dust billowing gently around the tyres.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Daryl right?" Richard appeared beside him. "C'mon, let's get you set up."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed heavily as he stepped into the trailer back at Hilltop. The heat hadn't escaped the small, metal pod, the lack of air conditioning made it more stifling then being out in the square.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been exhausting being in the corner of Rick's eye all day. He knew that what they'd been through would mean that breaking down the wall of trust would be particularly challenging with the Alexandrian's, however, having assimilated some kind of friendship with Daryl had made him ignorant of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he was back to square one, despite being a certified member of the colony, he felt himself back on the outside. Sasha and Maggie hushing conversation when he neared them, Enid shyly avoiding him. It seemed, without the Hunter's presence, talking to the 'outsider' was now a risk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brooded. Ignoring the mattress at the bottom of the bed, stepping around the older man's stuff for the next couple of days.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was late morning when Maggie found Jesus perched on the picnic table, flicking through the guide that Daryl had found for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, how're you feeling?" Jesus closed the book over his finger, preserving his place, blinking up at Maggie. Her cropped hair was framed by the morning glow, stray wisps lightened to amber as she squinted at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"M'good. Hanlon seems ta' think I'll do jus' fine. Sickness don't help so much though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll bet. I think I'm on the verge of convincing Gregory to let you all stay in the house, but I'm taking it easy, he's very...uh..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry sweetie. Met bigger ego's then that man. Can you trust him?" Her features drew into a sterner expression, brows furrowed and steely eyes fixed on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause as the Scout studied the woman's reaction. She sucked her teeth, rubbing her hands against her thighs before nodding with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks for bein' honest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No problem."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a couple of days and Daryl was sure even after the first few hours, that he was sick of the Kin</span>
  <span>gdom. The same false sense of reality seemed to hang over the place like it had over Woodbury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plump smiling faces, smooth clean hands and no gear strapped to whatever belt or pocket they had, the people of the large compound were blissful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The community farm however was enviable of all the group's he'd encountered so far, it was clear the folk had good work ethos, akin to those at Hilltop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were soldier types, many atop horseback and with armour, melee and automatic weaponry. This reassured him slightly, it also felt good to have a bow back on his shoulder. His sense of security was something tangible and the bow formed the trifecta of reliability. Crossbow, bike and his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Shit</em>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus was going to gather his things up and not only would he discover the volume, but the book nerd that he was, would maybe even pry at its pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl recoiled inwardly, cringing at the fictitious image of the younger man nodding pitifully as he scanned the dogmarked sections.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he considered, he lived here now and no matter the uncomfortability of the exchange, at least it would be brief and then he could avoid the Scout from there on.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul straightened his duvet cover. It was pretty pointless, but he clung to the small things in life he could control when everything else seemed unstable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faffing with the linen a moment longer then necessary, he glanced across at Daryl's makeshift bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhat woefully, he scooped up scattered clothing and crammed it into the black, twill rucksack Rick had sent over for Daryl after he'd escaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His knuckles bumped the hardcover of a thick book, he pulled the heavy volume out enough to read the cover, swallowed then put it back. Continuing to gather the older man's belongings and pack them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless you had been fortunate to be in the right place at the right time when the world went to shit, it was no surprise when it was discovered that the fellow survivors that also made it this far, had more then colourful backgrounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew himself, that the tragedy that befell him Before, only aided him now. The present hell was adaptable if you'd already crossed that bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it happened that Daryl had too. Made sense, Paul thought to himself, he did, however find it interesting that the Hunter kept the book as a valued possession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing Daryl had a past was obvious, knowing that he sought to recover and understand it, was a whole other concept entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Children's welfare support staff were pretty shitty, so Paul didn't reflect much on his own life and how he'd come to be at the group home, he could wager his entire collection of nutter butters that Daryl had never experienced any kind of professional help either. That whatever this book meant for the older man, it was likely the first time he confronted his issues properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Self-worth and acceptance, that's what goes into beginning the recovery process, so he was told. It intrigued Paul to know what the Hunter thought of himself. On some level, he must of accepted that whatever happened wasn't his fault and that it was in fact abuse and he'd recognised that it had deeply effected his mind, that his mind is worth fixing and he isn't to blame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout stopped, hand hovering over the small tin of wax Daryl used for fletching. He wondered if he was analysing the Hunter because this was something he hadn't yet done for himself. Now he would miss living vicariously through Daryl's secret recovery and he could resume ignoring his own past bullshit.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daryl had been roped into some plan of Richard's the next morning, something about a decoy diversion to try and get some Saviours. In his allocated room he lay on a small, creaky cot, the springs digging into his back, trying to get some sleep. Shuffling into a new position a few times, he finally rested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts strayed to Maggie, Sasha and Enid, he wondered how they'd been and how they felt about staying at Hilltop. He thought it a good place for Maggie, her background and current situation made it an ideal place to stop. Enid was more nomadic, but for now it was clear she was wherever Maggie was. Sasha he felt was similar to him, her hackles were raised and under her calm and collected demeanour sizzled a tempered rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reminded him of his younger self. Peaceable enough, moving around his home and small town with small nods and half smiles, but come nightfall he would be smashing car windows down the scrap yard. Getting wasted and swinging a baseball bat around while Pearl Jam boomed out of his car stereo. Some other local kids who were bored or also looking to escape the monotony of ritual domestic hell swayed about, passing joints between them, making fires and creating seats out of tyres.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even surrounded by others and their pain, he still felt alone and misunderstood. Why weren't they as angry about life as he was? He saw that in Sasha, in the way she withdrew in company. She wasn't ready yet, to confront her shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl snorted. Resting an arm under his pillow, propping his head up. His lighter held between two fingers of his other hand, flicking it so it spun. He was amused by his own philosophising, blaming Carol and the book, but then also, maybe the years of living life had a hand in it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl knew he was not the same anxious upstart that he'd been when Rick had found them. People change and grow, he was much more patient now. Even Jesus didn't piss him off and that was something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter almost looked forward to when the younger man would come with his things, the inevitable discovery of the book aside, trading quips had been missed over the last couple of days.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd been following Richard the best part of the day, the weight of his new crossbow already felt a part of his body as the strap fit snugly over his shoulder. Daryl scanned the underbrush as the man yapped on, detailing his plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man had heard something about getting the Saviours and had admittedly become ignorant of the rest of the facts, the taste of foul dog meat sat in his mouth at the very mention of Negan and his men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he zeroed in as he realised that a woman alone in a cottage was the bait. After confronting the King's Soldier, Daryl headed out to the location, he wondered if it could be...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carol, thank fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter who it had been, the Hunter knew there was no leaving without a warning to the resident, but his heart skipped when her quaint features peeked around the door, the nose of a rifle slightly visible from a lower angle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nice digs." Emotion thrummed through him, but he stood stoic as she looked over the man before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throwing arms around her friend, the butt of the weapon catching his hip as she gripped him tight. Pulling him into the home and cupping his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Daryl. Tea?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After rejecting her 'piss water', they caught up on the family. Eyes fixing hard on the surface of the kitchen table as they went over the recent deaths. He spoke about his escape and then through gritted teeth added in Richard's plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I suppose it's time to move on then." She sighed, delicately patting down the curling edge of a doily in the centre of the table. Adorned with a sugar bowl and a plate of homemade cookies, Daryl could almost ignore the apocalypse happening all around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y'aint safe, yer' jus' sittin' here wi' no coverage, nuthin'." He raised a brow, twizzling his knife against the wood, slowly drilling a cone-shaped hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If anyone happens by, I have a fully loaded rifle and I'm pretty nifty with this." Carol put her own Bowie beside her teacup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N' if 'anyone' is a dozen men, pissed thinkin' they're comin' here fer' somethin' else. All they find is some angry lady with a trigger finger, n' these men you gotta remember, they all had to give their wives ta' Negan. The fuck you think yer' gonna do?" Daryl spoke cautiously, alluding to dangers he was certain Carol didn't take lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But, if Richard hadn't stirred the pot, I'd be just fine here. I have been, just fine." Determined to prove her worth, she pouted slightly and glanced at the gun resting on the seat beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hunter scoffed, then stabbed his knife so it stood upright, "alright, <em>home-on-the-range</em>, this place is crawlin' wi bad men. Bad <em>people</em>. Don't get cocky jus' cause you've got this far. Don't forfeit contentedness wi' complacency, or some shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carol stared at him from the corner of her eye. "When did you become so wise?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, <em>nah</em>, the hippy prick from Hilltop said it ta' Maggie an' it jus' stuck." Daryl remembered listening as the Scout told them how he'd convince Gregory and the colonists to move against Negan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The one who helped you out of the Sanctuary?" She hummed as the man nodded, "Doesn't sound like a prick to me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked unsurely at him as Daryl yanked the knife from the table, a small splinter cracked as the cerated edge came up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fella' calls hisself' <em>Jesus</em>..." The older man snarked matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Ooh</em>." Carol winced playfully. "He's looking after the girls?" Again watching as Daryl flicked his head, "Do you trust him-?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." His reply fired as fast as he'd heard the words. The answer had been on the tip of his tongue as he'd asked the same </span>
  <span>question in his head over and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hasty word made Carol's eyes widen momentarily as she processed her friend's immediate body language. Knowing he was bristling under her scrutiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, hopefully he remains a good ally."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Rick n' the others don' trust 'im." Daryl mumbled, gently carving lines with his knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. "You've seen it first hand, plus you <em>know</em> what it's like with Rick, hopefully Sasha and Maggie can solidify that relationship and he'll see that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stilled his hand and leant forward slightly, "Yeah, I know what it's like wi' Rick. He goes all Jekyll n' Hyde on that shit. Don't wanna see 'im throwin' someone under tha' bus cause he got paranoid. Man could be useful, he knows shit we don't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carol considered that maybe being so distant from the family had made her naive about their particular traits, but she got a sense of worry emanating from Daryl that either suggested Rick was going through a patch of instability, or the Hunter's focus was redirected to concern for the welfare of this new stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you could just remind Rick when he comes, you said he'd be here in the next few days? I'm going to follow you back to the Kingdom, <em>annoyingly</em>, you're right about staying." She rolled her eyes and winked across at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah, think I betta' go back. 'Cause on the other hand, if he <em>does</em> go an' throw us ta' Negan, I gotta be there." It felt like a flimsy excuse and Daryl almost recoiled as it rolled off his tongue. Carol wasn't stupid, they both knew that would never happen or Hilltop would just be a massacre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carol reached across the table and slipped her hand into his, her thumb stroking his worn skin, "Well I'll miss you, y'know? Always do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head low and hair falling slightly over his face, Daryl muttered, "Don't keep leavin' then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, it's you this time." She stood as he headed toward the door, their chairs squeaking against the floorboards as they pushed them out. They held each other in silence, feeling home within the embrace. As if to absorb the feeling, Daryl breathed her in, crushing her tightly before straightening up. Clearing his throat and ignoring the sniffle that twitched his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Be safe out there." She cupped his cheek again, their meeting coming to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N' you. Sure I can't walk ya' back?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carol chuckled and waved a hand, "If we go in together people would only talk." Her smile spread warmly across her delicate features. "No, you go, tell Maggie if she needs me, she knows I will come."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, blinking harshly at the stinging in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched as he sauntered off, ambling along the road and then turning into the treeline and out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading back inside she swallowed the rest of her tepid drink, then paused as she picked up Daryl's empty plate. Noticing the small crucifix carved in the table where he'd been sat.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jesus was furious. He'd known well enough what Gregory was. Men like Gregory wore their weakness on their sleeve, their own toxic self-worth spooled over both ends of the scale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arrogance and self-importance trumping any moral inclination, chest inflated and voice roaring over others, then; deflated like an empty balloon; Cowering and snivelling at the feet of men who intimidated him. A letcherous wretch with no spine, quivering in the shadow of confidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew all of this, it sat at in his mind as the very man instructed him to hide the Alexandrian's in the wall. It wouldn't hurt, to play into his suspicions. Then it turned out he had been right all along. Willing to sell out the pregnant widow and her friend for clout with Negan. It had been a smart trick to switch the women for Gregory's liquor stash, but the parlour trick bore no mirror to the Scout's feelings on the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the Saviours were far away from the colony, Paul let Sasha and Maggie out. Enid had blended in with the other residents, fists clenched but under his stern and watchful eye she remained subdued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been somewhat of a surprise visit from the Saviours and given how Gregory had behaved, he was glad Daryl wasn't here. It would not of bode well if he'd given them all up and the idiot man would have done it anyhow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such thoughts boiled in his brain as he stomped through Barrington house, Maggie, Sasha and Enid had all been angry but sat ruefully as Jesus paced the trailer wildly. Deciding it was better to whip the beast than the ground around it, lest it bite again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The <em>hell</em> do you think?!-" Gregory started as the office door slammed behind the whirlwind of hair and leather that stormed into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up Gregory</span>
  <span>!" Striding forward, Jesus slammed hard onto the desk, hands either side the colony rota books open in the centre. "That is the last time you do this. Don't you see you foolish man?! You are just a pawn to them!" Exasperated, he pleaded sense into the older man. "We need Rick, they have the firepower, without them we are just waiting to be killed and robbed, if not Negan then it might be someone else, someone who <em>doesn't</em> think long-term. We're bait for the bigger fish of this world and <em>you</em> nearly sold us all out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This has been <em>my</em> home since before you were swinging off your mother's tit! I will not have you come in here. I did <em>not</em> let those army fucks and I will <em>not</em> let that hick bitch either, she can squat out her progeny and if she doesn't do us all a favour and join the afterlife, then she can damn well fuck off too!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first lesson of martial arts training, across all areas is self-discipline. To excel, one must become a force within themselves, have absolute control of body and mind. As an elite within his field, Paul Rovia could firmly attest to his prowess in both areas. Maintaining his bodily power through practice and yoga and his mental placidity through operating daily within a stressful environment and using empathy and mindfulness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However none of this was stopping his emotional pressure guage from tipping. Using the last of his resolve to leave the room and the building. Paul thundered to the gate, the false mask of resolute banality flickered as Kal let him out, casually commenting on the particular birds he'd seen that morning, unaware of Paul's advancing rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, loose and away from prying eyes, the Scout wasn't actually sure what his intentions were other then to put some space between himself and Gregory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCK!" He yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat roughed as the force of his shout rocketed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Son of <em>fucking</em> cu-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-That how ya' welcome back folk 'roun' here?" A snarky, southern drawl sounded from between the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, Jesus had drawn his gun, the nose pointed unwavering into Daryl's face. The younger man gave a breathy laugh, his whole body rocked as he was relieved to see the Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, just you." Locking the pistol and sliding it back into it's holster, the Scout watched as Daryl grinned. "I just get used to sleeping peacefully again and then you come back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, tha' Kingdom had plenty' a' rooms, yer' own bed, even a tiger n' shit, but I prefer sleepin' on hard floors, your stinkin' socks about tha' place."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Hey</em>, I have the finest floors in Hilltop." Jesus chortled to himself, sweeping back his hair, letting his muscles loosen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl stared at him knowingly, "What happened? Maggie?-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're all fine." The younger man threw up a hand, brows drawn into a frown as he studied the ground. "Just Gregory being a spineless leader. He's out of control, if it weren't for the whole thing with Negan, I would of exiled him myself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's abou' you fill me in on what that asshole's done."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jesus walked about the surrounding woodland of Hilltop and recounted the earlier events. Daryl pausing when it got to the man's betrayal but continued to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So what brings you back anyway?" Paul watched as the Hunter tracked his crossbow in a panoramic, staring down the scope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well it sure ain't tha' leadership."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would of thought the Kingdom would be the next best place after the Safe Zone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl snorted, remembering Richard's callous plan, all in the name of utilitarianism. "Only thing fer' me there is Carol, an' she ain't so much of a sure thing these days."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Scout rolled the words over in his head, "Oh...So Carol, is she like, a <em>girlfriend</em>? Something maybe a little more casual?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stopping abruptly, Daryl scowled at the younger man. "What gives wi' tha' questions?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Defensively, Jesus stepped backwards, head tilted as he took on the piercing gaze of the Hunter, "I'm just trying to build a better picture of you-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why? Y'aint need no mental profile. 'Less you ain't so square yerself'!" The older man spat. The distrust of Rick and the others still sat in the background of his mind, he couldn't afford to throw caution to the wind and in such close quarters and with the girls, Maggie in particular, on the firing line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Really</em>? You don't trust me?" Jesus scoffed with emphasis, cocking his hip and slapping his thigh in exasperation, "Would it not make sense for me to of followed you guys back to Alexandria that day and, I dunno, steal your guns? Hold Carl and Judith captive while you surrendered your inventory to us if I was playing you?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl growled low at how freely the younger man hypothesised threatening the Grimes's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Or, sure, maybe you didn't trust me when I first showed you guys our defenceless little place, stood up for Rick after he straight up shot one of our guys in the fucking head, but how about when I broke you out of the Sanctuary?! Huh?!" Paul didn't shout, but he argued with tenacity and the sheer insult of being accused of dishonesty was enough to provoke him into letting is neutral demeanour slip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N' what tha' fuck <em>were</em> ya' doin' there? Y'all jus' appearin' outta nowhere?! I know you didn't leave that note, the fuck were you doin', stompin' 'roun' tha' compound like you know tha' place? 'Cause that don't make sense ta' me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus looked astonished, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted, "<em>Sure</em>, risking my life to help you out was just some part of a <em>whole</em> big conspiracy against Daryl Dixon. You think <em>I</em> trust <em>you</em>? Who really knows if you'd of left me on the road. If I screw up will you cave <em>my</em> head in?! Do you have self control Daryl?!" Paul could feel himself slipping but was already on his way down, "Yknow I heard someone call you Rick's attack dog, am I just going to have to keep my head down now you clearly don't trust me? Maybe that's why you're back. Alexandria are just going to cast <em>us</em> down as the gauntlet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was raised now, temper flared from his dealings with Gregory but unintentionally aimed toward Daryl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You seem awful concerned 'bout why I'm back. You need ta' calm down, comin' off all suspicious." The older man snarled, shoulders haunched and mouth pinched into a sneer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't pretend to analyse me Dixon. You have no idea who I am. Don't bite off more then you can chew, or did your book not tell you that?!" Regretting it instantly, Jesus ducked as a fist swung for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swooping low in a bend to dodge the flurried frustrations of the Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yer' a fucking prick!" Daryl howled. Anger fizzing with shame swelled inside his veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Likewise!" The Scout barked back, "Stay the hell out of my trailer." Marching away from the fight and back to the colony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Infuriated, the older man scathed, eyes seething as if boreing into the ground with hot beams of fire. Charging into the opposite direction to take his aggression out on the local wildlife.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that evening, Daryl realised he needed to recover his things from the trailer. To his disdain and paralleled relief, his possessions were all collected in a pile by the door. Unfortunately, the door was open and Maggie called to him as he approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Jesus said you were back." Her tone was hesitant and Daryl rolled his eyes inwardly as the predictable questions were floated. "Somethin' happen? Saw him get all your stuff..." Her eyes dropped to the rucksack, bedroll and army bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ain't nothin' serious. Jus' clashin' is all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did you say to 'im to make 'im turf you out?" Her chin rested on her hand as she turned bodily to face him, intrigue tickling her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why ya' assume it were me? Prick's a touchy bastard, makin' another man's business 'is own an' throwin' it about, ain't right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie nodded, not completely sure what he meant. "Where you gonna sleep?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Spot or two in tha' Smithy's shed, gonna crash there, go out n' fin' a tent or somethin' tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, well, I'm here if you need me, can't do much, but I can talk to him?" She looked slightly hopeful, voice softening as it tended to do when she was being sensitive with the older man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah, prick's a prick, talkin' ain't changin' that. Better ta' know where ya' stand. N' if he needs me, then he can come an' sort it hisself'." With that, he disappeared into the dark, away from the light and warmth of the trailer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Well</em>, sounds different comin' from him." Maggie returned to her magazine, not acknowledging the figure stood by the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had been heading toward his room when the Hunter had stopped to chat on the porch, not wanting to confront him again, he had stood waiting and listening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He was a point, I guess. I overstepped big time." He shut the door and sat across from the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Man's an urchin, all spiky an' difficult on the outside, but what's in tha' centre is delicate." She sipped from a mug, flicking her gaze across the brim at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't of naturally put Daryl Dixon and '<em>delicate</em>' in a sentence together myself. Of course the man has a softer side, all of us do if we're honest-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-But maybe you said somethin' that crossed tha' line?" She interrupted him with a matter-of-fact rhetorical. Brows raised and lips slightly pursed. "You an me are friends, but Daryl is family, if you're in the wrong-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am. I know it, <em>just</em>," Both elbows on the table, Jesus rubbed his face, burying himself in his hands. He groaned before resting his cheeks in his palms, "I was pissed at Gregory and then he came out with a load of bull about trust and I guess I did tread across the threshold of Daryl's more private sensitivities." He gave a mock laugh, trying to ease his own feelings of guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>See</em>, when you act like that, you should <em>expect</em> a reaction. Sounds like you need ta' 'pologise." Folding the magazine shut, she tipped her mug back, leaving the last splash, swirling the loose black tea dust with disinterest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah..." Paul grimaced, the prospect of Daryl's smug face or potential further resentment wasn't something to look forward to. He glanced up as she stood, ready to head to bed, "One thing though, Carol, is <em>she</em>...are <em>they...</em>?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie snorted. Tapping him gently with the magazine as she passed his chair, "Night Jesus."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Daryl found himself asking the Hilltop residents where he could get a tent, but to no avail as they either told him they didn't have one, or to 'find Jesus, he'll hook him up'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the last thing he wanted to do, he'd had worse, but he'd felt himself open up to a friendship with the Scout and was scornful that it had backfired. That he had defended him only to want to sock him in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the busy chain of inquiries that had him coming face-to-face with the younger man when he realised he needed the car allocated for scavenging only to find that Jesus himself was also in need of the vehicle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl hoped his ominous scowl would be enough to encourage the Scout to politely allow the older man to take the car and forfeit his own excursion for another time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other hard from either side of the car, both with their hands on a door handle. Both tiring of the silence and then opening their respective door, the simultaneous motion caused another locked stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You worried about that?" Sasha chuckled to Maggie who fingered labels to read the names of the herbs in the medicinal garden nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>That</em>? Oh that ain't nothin'. Just need to measure them an' move on." She huffed to herself, Sasha grinned, removing a glove and wiping her sweaty forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Measure what?" Enid piped up, to the amusement of the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back at the car, Jesus sat in the driver's seat, feeling slightly less awkward then Daryl who glowered in the passenger side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm hitting up a little strip up near Washington. Just for hardware, pretty sure there's camping gear, could be something but no guarantees." The younger man muttered, nodding at the watch as they drove out of the Hilltop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence was the language of the drive, the only sounds came as Paul's gloves squeaked against the rubber of the steering wheel. Getting to the city meant taking the back roads, the narrow scenic path held the greater chance of running into a herd, but taking the main road was more of a risk. Rogue survivors dominated the main highways into the cities, picking off survivors with the protection of abandoned vehicles masking their whereabouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was already a long trip seemed longer as Jesus cautiously rounded a van with no tyres, sitting annoyingly in the centre of the tarmac.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know Sherry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl had to repeat the statement in his mind before he turned curiously toward the Scout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Before, I knew her." Paul glanced at Daryl, his face tight before watching the road again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There was a plan, to get her out of the Sanctuary with you, Dwight wanted her safe. He mapped out the place for me, but we couldn't do it, I had no way of protecting her once she got out and it also left Dwight..." Jesus paused, chewing his lips, grip tightening momentarily on the wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then we met you guys, chance of taking Negan down made us look at the plan again. Can't get her until Negan's gone, can't get Negan without risking her and the other's he has-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-I would'a' protected her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dwight didn't want to take that risk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why save me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We knew we could get you out. Thought with you and Rick, we could find a way to take Negan permanently. Your bike key found its way to me, Dwight and some others came when you were first taken, ransacked our stuff, found the key later. Sherry sent a note with it, told me what to look out for, to find your cell."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl swallowed, rehashing his escape. "The matchbook..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The note was her. I was supposed to be there when you got out, but Carl was there, had to make sure he was safe too. It was hard to leave Sherry behind. I found you, then the rest, you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do I know this ain't bullshit?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have the matchbook Sherry sent me still. At the trailer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't have to save me." Daryl mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, we didn't, but you saved my life. You saved Dwight's and tried to save Sherry's sister. I spent some time in a group home with both of them. We were close. Tina got fostered out and moved away till she was older, me and Sherry would come up with plans to make it rich, get her back..." He trailed off a small smirk on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But?..." Daryl supplied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No but, we never stopped. Sherry opened some kitschy little eatery with Dwight, let me work there for cheap while I figured out what I was doing next. Tina didn't make it, but in quite a roundabout way, the rest of us are still here because of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hon's diner?" Daryl asked abruptly, Paul had given some clothes to Maggie and Sasha when they first arrived, he remembered seeing the t-shirt and thinking it seemed either niche in a douchey kind of way, or had something to do with the Scout's life from Before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Jesus chuckled curiously at the older man's sharp memory. "Dwight's pet name for Sherry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat quietly as Daryl digested the new information. It made sense, he knew he trusted Jesus anyway, but it helped to clear up the loose ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I overheard you talking to Maggie." Paul peeked at the man beside him and caught the tail end of an eye roll. "It wasn't deliberate," he quickly added. "Listen, I didn't snoop through your things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daryl shifted in his seat, he hated confrontation, but preferred the fighting kind as opposed to the intense sincerity with which the younger man was addressing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was a shitty thing I said."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, the Hunter kicked his foot onto the dash, picking </span>
  <span>habitually at the loose threads round his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shitty folk say shitty things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not a shitty person Daryl. I was having a shitty day and so I said a shitty thing, but it doesn't inherently make me a shitty person." Paul reasoned. The argument sounded ridiculous, a sentiment echoed when the other man glanced at him with a poorly concealed smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus sniggered freely, "I'm sorry, was what I meant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should be, fuckin' prick. Yer' lucky, had me swingin'." Daryl tittered, looking down, letting his hair flop over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pretty sure you'd of landed it if you really meant it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't suck ass now yer' out the doghouse. We all know yer' a ninja."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul wiggled his head as if to acknowledge the fact, a closed smile dimpled his cheeks. "Speaking of the doghouse, you can come back. That is, if you trust me?" His playfulness faltered and he erred in the side of seriousness for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do. Jus', th'others still fixin' their ideas of ya'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's only fair...so, do you still want to look for a tent?"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jesus/Cherry background came from this tumblr post, a fan theory based on clues from Jesus's trailer. </p><p>https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/twd%2Btheories</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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